Exits
by Scar7
Summary: This is an one-shot collection without a precise order nor a connection to each other, except for the fact that they're pretty depressing. I want to warn you guys that the death of a main character is possible, where it's needed I'll put a warning before the scene that should not be nominated. Added a fic about Stendan's future after Brendan's arrest.
1. No1

**Hi, guys! This is an one-shot collection without a precise order nor a connection to each other, except for the fact that they're pretty depressing. I want to warn you guys that the death of a main character is possible, where it's needed I'll put a warning before the scene that should not be nominated.**

**Enjoy...**

... or try to, at least.

* * *

**Autor: Scar**

**Beta-reader/editor: Hannival Kinney**

**genre: dark, romance, erotic**

**warning: hard M, dark content. Please don't kill me.**

**summary: set in a vague moment of a possible future ending. Brendan is on the run e wants Steven to follow him for a fresh start somewhere.**

* * *

**No.1**

**.**

**.**

**xHOx**

**.**

**.**

It had been twenty-two days, almost twenty-three, since he last saw him or received some news: a call, a text, even a fuck off would be welcome, at this point. Nothing.

He didn't know where he was, what he was doing, who he was doing it with, if he was thinking of him even a little bit in that moment. Actually, he didn't even know if he was still alive.

Ste instantly drove the terrible mental image away, hiding himself under the covers and closing his eyes, desperately trying to fall asleep for a few hours at least.

The gloomy silence in the house didn't help out at all.

Since Amy had taken the children away with her, he had been sleeping badly at night, more than usual. And now that Brendan had abandoned him, the passing of the day was heavy and endless.

Again, Ste drove this new thought out of his head: Brendan had not abandoned him. He had simply left the village as a precautionary measure due to an unidentified bloke that threatened him with an undefined danger.

A sudden noise make him jump off the bed. Someone was trying to get in. A thief, maybe, or even worse, a murderer. You couldn't spend the most of your time with Brendan Brady and not get used to thinking the worst.

The intruder spent several minutes fumbling with the lock, and then the door finally opened. Ste carefully lowered his arm down, his hand firmly around his baseball bat, but the intruder was quick enough to avoid his stroke, and then managed to turn on the lights.

"Steven!"

Ste felt the roar of his heart under his palate.

It was him. It was Brendan. He had come back to him.

"Brendan ... ya ... your moustache. "

He felt like an idiot afterwards. Twenty-two days, almost twenty-three, during which he had imagined the most gruesome tragedies, and that was the first thing he had noticed.

The man stroked his lips where the skin was completely shaved around.

Ste approached him and imitated his gesture. Finally, after the first moments of surprise, he smiled.

"You don't even look like... _you_."

Brendan encircled Ste's waist, pressing their bodies together.

"That's the whole point" he said. "I had to do it. I'd be too recognizable otherwise, wouldn't I? "

Ste nodded, although he hadn't clearly figured yet out who or what Brendan was hiding from.

"Can you tell me everything, now?"

Brendan shook his head. "There's not much to say. There is someone who's coming after me "

"Who?"

Brendan shrugged.

"It could be anyone. The list is pretty long. "

"Walker?"

"Probably. That's why I had to leave. I don't want you and Cheryl to be in danger."

"Cheryl has left ... with that Nate bloke."

Brendan nodded. "She sent me a message a week ago. He's good for her, isn't he?"

"Why are you here then?"

Brendan put his hands around Ste's neck and brought his own lips to his.

"I'll make ye a drawing later," he whispered, kissing him briefly. "I was going crazy ..." - this time the kiss was longer "... the thought that something could happen to you "- his lips came down along Ste's neck and then end up back on the lips. "... and I wasn't here to protect you. "

Brendan opened his lips and began to taste him, but Ste's eyes turned on in an instant. It was completely natural for Brendan to put his fingers through Ste's hair and stick his tongue into his mouth.

Brendan tasted like whiskey with a sweet aftertaste. Ste barely had time to recognize it, without dwelling on the strange sensation of not feeling the characteristic tickle on his lips, as Brendan grabbed the corner of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He did the same with his boxers.

In a few seconds Ste found himself completely naked in the middle of the flat, while Brendan's hands touched his body frantically.

"Let's go to bed" Ste gasped, well knowing that getting there would have been impossible.

"Yeah... sure, "said Brendan, pushing him into the right direction, he guessed. In the meantime, he took off his own shirt, tossing it somewhere in the kitchen and stumbling in his jeans after Ste had unbuttoned them for him and slid them down his legs. Once in the living room they were both naked. Brendan took the pillows from the sofa and threw them on the floor, then he made Steven lay down and groan in anticipation.

Brendan sat astride on his legs, looking at him with adoration as he was rubbing their erections against each other. "You're the most beautiful thing I've seen in the past three weeks."

"Wasn't there a mirror where you stayed?" said Ste, seriously.

Brendan snorted a small laugh before kissing his lips, then his neck, and then further down to his navel. Once he got there he briefly watched Ste's hard-on like he wanted to size up the consistency, or simply the best way to take it totally down his throat without the risk of choking. Eventually he took a deep breath and wrapped his lips around the wonderful piece of flesh without leaving an inch out.

Ste barely kept from screaming in surprise, then he had to struggle against both the desire to watch Brendan's head going up and down on his pelvis and the possibility of coming in that moment and having the fastest orgasm he ever had. A couple of times he got really close, then at one point Brendan let out the cock from his mouth and started nibbling at his balls, gently, making him moan in frustration. Finally, taking him by surprise, Brendan turned him in an abrupt motion, opened his bum cheeks and dove in with his face.

Ste couldn't believe it. He was kneeling in the middle of his living room, his head pressed on a flowered pillow and his ass in the air with Brendan's tongue swirling an obscene way inside him, when a few minutes before he was terrified at the thought of never seeing him again.

He tried to move his arm and reach his erection that was throbbing painfully against the other pillow, but Brendan, knowing his intentions, slapped his buttocks.

"Don't you dare come!"

"But Brend-oooh!"

Ste bit his lip. He expected everything, except Brendan penetrating him so suddenly, without preparation, without adverting him, but most of all without a condom. It had never happened before and he had to drive out instantly the image with Brendan hitting hard against his ass, the thought of how he threw his head back, or his climax on the sight of his own cock slipping in and out of Ste's hole.

Brendan always used to fuck him wildly and desperately, as if each time were the last one, but there was something different this time, more intense, and Ste found himself unable to hold back the tears because of all the power of his feelings.

"Don't come yet," he heard Brendan croaking.

Ste tried to say yes, that he would do as he wanted, but he could not utter a sound nor make a little gesture with his head, as long as he was crushed on the floor, held down by a Brendan's strong hand while the other one was sank into the flesh of his leg. Feeling Brendan's cock twitching inside him and his sperm fill in a sudden spurt took his breath away.

"Brendan" he gasped desperately. "I can't take it anymore. I can't ... "

"Do it for me" Brendan whispered in his ear, while stroking his hair. "Don't come yet."

Ste thought that wasn't fair. Brendan had had his orgasm while he couldn't do anything while he was so close to reach his own climax. He could have had a heart attack from the way the blood was flowing like crazy in his veins.

Again Ste bit his lip and again was surprised that Brendan sank again his face between his bum cheeks, his tongue in his hole, licking his own cum. Ste tightened his fists with the desperate desire to punch the floor. It was too much. Too much.

Brendan rolled him over again without a warning, almost as if he had become a doll or a puppet he had cut the wires to. He saw Brendan licking his own lips and then close his that gasping searching for more air than he was allowed.

When Brendan took his cock in his mouth again, pushing two fingers up his ass, Ste even forgot how to breathe.

Ste realized that he was finally getting there, regardless that he would have been heard from here to heaven, roared strongly his too long withheld pleasure, arching into Brendan's mouth. When he thought it was over and everything calmed down, Brendan spat out the cum mixed with the one still coming out of his ass, then pushed his legs up and penetrated him again with his cock, coming inside him again while his orgasm had a last amazing frisson. Finally he collapsed exhausted on the floor with Brendan beside him.

After a few seconds Ste began to giggle.

"To think that before you showed up I was looking for a way to get through the night."

Brendan chuckled in return, then stood up and held out his hand to him.

"I'm a mess," said Ste, noting what rivers of sperm had become in contact with his skin, but first of all with his leg hair.

Brendan kissed him softly. "Leave it. I want you to smell of me, like I do. "

Ste had always known that Brendan loved marking his territory, but he couldn't imagine he loved such animals – and at the same time romantic – methods.

"We need a few hours of sleep before going."

Ste dreaded to ask him what he meant, but when they were in bed, his head resting on Brendan's shoulder, he had no time to satisfy his curiosity because he fell asleep within seconds.

When he opened his eyes it wasn't morning yet, and Brendan was at the foot of the bed, fully dressed.

"You're leaving?"

Brendan nodded. "But this time you're coming with me."

Ste opened his mouth in surprise. "And the deli?"

"Forget it. I have enough money ... "

"But-"

Brendan silenced his hint of protest. "We'll start again somewhere. You and me together. Do we need anything else? "

Ste beamed. "No, we don't. I'll be ready in a minute. "

Brendan returned the bright smile with an identical one, all teeth. "Good boy. My good boyfriend. "

Brendan looked quickly around. "I put all your stuff in here," he began, pointing out two bags in his hand. "I'll wait for you in the car. You have five minutes to get dressed. '

"I'll be ready in two," said Ste, as he jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom.

"Ohi ... Steven!" Ste turned near the door. "I love you."

Ste felt tears in his eyes, overwhelmed by too many emotions in the past four-five hours.

"I love you more."

.

.

**If you like happy endings this shot ends here, if you like tragedy then keep reading**

.

x

H

O

x.

**Warning:**

**major character death**

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.

.

Ste was ready in less than three minutes, taking a quick shower and arranging his hair the best way he could. He grabbed his phone and a recent photo of him, Amy and the kids. Finally, he left the house behind his back. Brendan's car was parked nearby with the lights on and the engine running.

Ste opened the door jumping on the passenger seat and shivering in the air of dawn. Brendan was lying on the steering wheel.

"Drowsy, ain't ya?"

He placed a kiss on his shoulder and started to wake him up. But his sleep was deep.

"Brendan it's almost dawn. Wake up!"

Ste stroke Brendan's head and his hand got wet with a warm liquid. He jumped.

The sunlight started seeping through the clouds and in the cockpit. Ste saw his hands covered with blood and Brendan was dripping blood from his nape.

"God" he sighed. "Brendan. BRENDAN!"

Ste gripped his phone and dialed the emergency number. He was sweating and shaking. But he was gonna be brave. Brendan needed him and his strength this moment.

Ste let Brendan's head recline on his shoulder, stroking his face and whispering words of encouragement.

Brendan had his eyes open, but he was unconscious. A little rivulet of blood was pouring out of his mouth, his inert mouth, no moustache on. He seemed so young that way. So young and weak.

Ste nestled him, praying silently that the assistance came as soon as possible.

"Don't be afraid. I'm with you".

Ste started crying. The force he'd been trying to hold till that moment started dropping. He felt the heat leaving Brendan's body; he felt hope abandoning him; he could still get a whiff of each other's smell on them. He could feel everything. Everything. Except Brendan's heart beating in his chest.


	2. No2

**Autor: Scar**

**Beta reader/editor: Paoloqaf**

**genre: drama, angst****  
****rating: R****  
****Character: Brendan Brady, Steven Hay, Cheryl Brady****  
****Warning: mentions of child abuse****  
****Summary: Seamus can hurt you much more than you ****think****, but you won't be alone ****in ****dealing with your suffering and fears.**

* * *

**No. 2****  
****.****  
****.****  
****xHOx****  
****.****  
****.**

Brendan looked away from the man whose eyes asked him for his help, as if he deserved it, as if, in the middle of the crowed square, he was the only innocent, the only one who his son should feel sympathetic with, as if that old man still had the right to be forgiven.  
The truth was that his father was a man suffering from a disease for which there was no forgiveness. As Brendan looked up, he saw the police car fading away with the man who had ruined his life. At last.  
Jack, Frankie, the Osbornes all, and anyone else he could say vices and virtues about, were staring at him in silence. Fortunately, after two years in that village, he had realized something important, and people as well: sometimes ignoring each other was the best thing.  
Nevertheless he exchanged a half smile with little Charlie, surrounded by the safe arms of his family – for fear in first place - and then turned to direction of his flat. It had been a long night.  
Steven ran into him, breathless, bright eyes, wide and shining in the shadows.  
At first he thought that Steven was worried about his bleeding lip or his swollen eye, the last taste of what his father was still able to give him, despite his age.  
"I asked you to stay with Cheryl," he said wearily. He didn't even have enough strength for arguing with him.  
As soon as his sister had realized the kind of man his dear daddy was, she had had a conniption and Brendan had asked Steven to take her away with him. Everything else was already painful by itself.  
Frankie screamed like crazy and Jack had been about to jump on Seamus's neck to lynch him. If the police had not arrived on time, the old bartender would have succeeded. Brendan was more than sure about this. Just as he was sure that a hundred eyes, the next day, would have seen him more as a pedophile's son instead of the hero who had saved the little Charlie from a worse fate than his, maybe.  
"Brendan!"  
Brendan felt his heart bouncing into his throat.  
"What are you doing here, Steven?"  
"Cheryl..." said Ste, tormenting his own hands.  
There were very few things that Brendan could not bear to Steven. For example when he used to talk too much, but even more when he wasn't going to speak at all, and so he was forced to decipher him as if he was a fucking puzzle.  
But there was no time to do it right now. And so he found himself flying towards home, even before Steven opened his mouth again.  
Brendan had thought to find his sister in tears, trashing the furniture or any more breakable objects, screaming, swearing, drowning in a jar of chocolate ice cream, but never ever that way: weird air, strong blush and a doll that had seen better times. Twenty years ago at least.  
A childhood memory. He remembered her name: Katy.  
Cheryl rocked herself, cross-legged onto the bed, humming a nursery rhyme in a thin voice, almost as if she were imitating a 5-6 years little girl, and with loving care she was combing the doll's gristly hair, stroking the worn clothes.  
Brendan approached her cautiously.  
"Cheryl".  
Brendan reached out to caress her face, but her sister pulled away, as if she was almost frightened because of him.  
"Who are you?" she asked in a tiny voice, shaking.  
Brendan did not understand if Cheryl wanted him to scare, joke or drive insane.  
"Cheryl ... it's me... Brendan ... your big brother."  
Cheryl frowned, staring at him intensely. "You've got a mustache... you're ugly. "  
Then she went on to hum again.  
Brendan turned to Steven who had remained silent behind him all the time.  
"What happened?"  
"As we came here... Cheryl cried... shouted. Then she ran up the stairs to her room... she pull down the curtains... broke something... "  
Brendan directed his gaze to the corner pointed out by Steven. He noticed the mess in the room at that moment. Maybe, because, in Cheryl's shoes, he wouldn't have even left a room.  
"I wanted to go down to the kitchen to make some tea" continued Steven, "but I couldn't leave her alone. I tried to calm her down. After five minutes she was as you can see her right now. "  
Brendan moaned in assent. He turned to his sister, following her movements with tears in his eyes. He had done everything because she shouldn't know the truth. He had pretended, for a lifetime, all that had happened to him was a thing concerning just him. But when Charlie had vanished he couldn't pretend anymore, and he felt froze at the thought that, in the past years, he hadn't been the only one to receive his father's morbid care.  
"Cheryl... she will get over this" Brendan sighed, barely trying to convince himself.  
"Brendan..."  
Steven's hand lightly lied on his shoulder, and Brendan grabbed it, holding it tight, to feel it as real as possible. He wanted to feel his skin, Steven's heat.  
"Brendan ... do you hear what she's saying? "  
Brendan turned on him, frowning.  
"I mean ... Cheryl's saying something weird. "  
"It's just some old rhyme" he replied absently.  
Steven shook his head slowly. "Listen carefully."  
Brendan went back to his sister with caution, trying not to frighten her further.  
Eventually he realized.  
A wet chill poured down his whole body  
His heart seemed to stop for an endless second.

_Take the doll.__  
__Hold it strong.__  
__While the princess plays,__  
D__addy pull her undies down_.

After talking to the doctor who was taking care of Cheryl, the situation became immediately clear, but clearness did not mean that Brendan would have accepted it. Finding out that Seamus had abused them both, as children, was a big shock for him, with the difference that Cheryl had removed that atrocity, burying it inside of her unconscious, while he had only pretended to do the same.  
His bones ached, his head was throbbing. Steven told him that it was for lack of sleep and because he ate badly and not enough. He had no need to take a medical degree to realize this.  
Outside the room of the psychiatric hospital, where Cheryl had been admitted, Brendan stopped, petrified, and turned to Steven, trying to let out the few words he had brooded for days.  
"You know ..." he began, his voice was broken because of a lump that he was been bringing with him all his life. "You shouldn't do this. You should stay away from me... from all this. You-"  
Steven's covered Brendan's mouth with his hand. "Stop it!"  
Steven's expression was angry, his voice strangely low, but as hard as Brendan did not remember he had ever heard.  
"You think I'm with you because I feel obligated, do ya?" continued Steven. "You're such an idiot! You didn't understand anything."  
"Doing this is already hard enough for me. You shouldn't take my shit. "  
Steven gave him a light punch against his shoulder.  
Here, that was his boy.  
"When I fell in love with you, I never thought it would have been easy" Steven continued with an ardent look. "And I knew I'd have taken all the shit I could as long as it would have come out from you. Even more now. "  
"But-" he tried.  
"Shush!" He silenced him with a peremptory expression.  
Then he kissed him, pressing impetuously his lips against Brendan's ones. Finally, he put in his arms a stuffed bear wearing an embarrassing pink tutu.  
"We must think of Cheryl, now" concluded Steven, pushing him towards his beloved sister.  
"Stay close to me, please" Brendan begged him. "I'm terrified".  
"I know. I'm terrified, too." Steven clung to his arm and gave him a kiss on his cheek, then rubbed his back affectionately. "And now, let's come in! I'm with you."


	3. No3

**Autor: Scar**

**Editor/Beta-reader: None. Ouch! Hannival Kinney left for a trip school and I hope there aren't too many mistakes; I'm terrible with English grammar. I hope you'll appreciate my effort anyway and so... please review (just to tell me it sucks)**

**Characters: Simon Walker, Ste Hay, Brendan Brady, Doug Carter**

**Genre: drama, dark content, angst**

**Summary: Walker plots his last move and it's gonna be... explosive.**

**Warning: multi-POV; death of a main character. **

**I wrote this fic after Amy took the kids away from Ste, and it was basically turning into a bloody carnage. In the end, I couldn't do it. So, if you love a happy ending, keep reading.**

**This fic is an AU by now, my last one maybe.**

* * *

**No.3**

**.**

**.**

**xHOx**

**.**

**.**

_Oh, my love, _

_young emblem_

_I return to the brown ground,_

_wide open in a rocky day,_

_I admire the wake of light_

_(At the foot of a cliff, on the impetuous and _

_sumptuous water of fatal caves) _

_for the last time,_

_troubled as a plaintive dove, _

_over dreamy grass._

_Oh, my Love, _

_shining health _

_The coming years grind on me._

_After leaving the faithful stick,_

_I'll glide into the dark_

_without regret._

_Oh, Death, arid river ..._

_Oblivious sister, death,_

_You'll make me dream, as he used to,_

_with a kiss._

_I'll get your pace,_

_I'll go without a trace._

_You will give me the motionless heart_

_of a god_

_I shall be innocent,_

_I'll have neither thoughts nor goodness._

_With my walled mind ,_

_With my eyes, fallen into oblivion,_

_I'm making way for happiness._

**.**

**.**

Today is the day.

Nothing can go wrong this time. You have arranged everything to perfection.

For six months, you have been hiding in the shadows of the hell you fell in because of your revenge, because of a man who killed your hope and the promise of looking after your brother, failing miserably. And you have been failing, too many times and too long, in an attempt to take Brady down, although you have always wanted it so badly, and you still want it.

But today you are not going to fail, because you have so much hate in you that it has given you additional eyes and hands, big lungs for running better, but taking up your chest from the remaining piece of your sick heart. Now you don't hear it beating faster – although you should - because you stopped listening to it ages ago.

You look in the mirror. Your face is tired, gray, unhealthy. You don't recognise the man in front of you, because all that you are seeing is only the shell of a man who doesn't even exist anymore.

You grin anyway, because this convinces you that no one else can do it.

Your jacket has large pockets with everything you need. You take a deep breath and keep smiling.

But something starts shaking just under your skin. Because today is the day.

The day Simon Walker is going to die.

...

...

One step at the time.

Even if things aren't perfect in your life, there are lots of reasons to feel good. Brendan supports you, sleeps at your side, but more important he makes feel loved and wanted, less alone. Everything he does helps you to do better day after day.

Sometimes, sadness takes over, but when you fall asleep and exhausted onto Brendan's chest, you stop thinking about it. Then, in the morning, you try to convince yourself that Amy had decided to take the kids away from you long before that you guys ended up living together like a proper family. Nothing would have changed anyway.

You start cleaning up some of the mess in the living-room, as your phone suddenly rings and, even if the number is unknown, your heart bounces, because you hope Leah's and Lucas' voices are on the other side of the phone, not of the world. They aren't, unfortunately.

At the first you don't catch the man's voice, his exact words; later, the way he greets you, spelling your name in a Brendan's ghastly imitation, clarifies everything.

"Hallo, Stephen!"

"Wa... Walker?"

"Yeah... it's me. How are you?"

You don't say a word, but your head starts smoking between the thought to call the police and temptation of hanging up on him.

"What do you want?" you say, but the effort makes your hand sweat and your legs shake.

"Come on, Stephen! It looks like you aren't happy to hear me. You know how sad that makes me, don't you? I've been waiting for this moment for a lifetime. So... I'd be very... very glad if you could join me... I mean... right now".

You stay silent for a while. Does he really think you're that stupid?

"I don't think so".

"Do you? You're breaking my heart... right, Brendan?"

At the first, you don't get it right; then, suddenly, you can clearly hear Brendan's voice on the phone, just your name in a desperate tone that makes you shudder.

Your lips get frozen around your words. "Brendan ... what's happened to him?"

"Oh, you disappoint me, Stephen. Nothing, for now. So... do you want us to give the pleasure of your company?"

"Where are you?" The words fall from your lips too soon for you to stop.

"At Chez Chez's, darling. Please don't make me wait too long! I'm pulling a couple of beers out of the fridge."

He giggles.

"Ah, Stephen! If I were you I wouldn't call the police. I feel like if Brendan's gonna be very sad".

Then he hangs up.

Your heart starts hammering in your chest as it happened a few times in your life. For example, when you thought Brendan could die from the explosion last September, or when you genuinely thought you were going to die, and Brendan threw himself on top of you, risking to take a bullet in your place.

You put your phone away in the pocket of your jeans, grab the keys and finally go out.

Tonight is a pretty warm night, and some people have taken the opportunity for a walk. Someone greets you, but you don't answer back. You haven't even seen who they were.

Brendan was supposed to meet Cheryl at the Dog's and you have promised to join them around eight, because you wanted to take a shower and make yourself presentable in the first place.

You wonder if Walker has kidnapped Cheryl, too. And then, what's he planning on doing next? To kill all of you?

You are close to tears, but as soon as you are near the club you hold back the tears. You aren't going to give him that satisfaction.

And finally you can see him, with his back against the counter and a glass of whiskey in his hand. "Hello, Ste!" he says, raising the glass in your direction.

Your feet are glued to the floor. "Where's Brendan?" you ask.

He puts his glass on the counter with nerve-racking slowness, then he walks up to you and grabs your hand so tightly that you think he is going to break many of your bones. He smiles and his teeth shine like phosphorescent blades in the green light of the room; then he puts the phone to your ear.

"Steven! Steven! For God's sake, wait!"

It's Brendan's voice. You can even remember when he said that, a few days ago. You was running away from him because of a senseless fight, you can't even remember the reason why you did it. There are always some really good reasons for giving it up, actually, and only big one for working it out. At these moments, sex is always better, frenetic, animal, desperate. You know very well how shut your minds off and, for a few hours, the only things that you guys can hear are filthy words, your 'more', 'harder', 'fucking hell' and cries of pleasure at the end of it all.

But, right now, you can only think about how stupid you are.

Now there's no stopping your horror. You're going to die and nobody can help you.

"Come with me!" he tells you in oily tone. "Brendan's office is more discrete, isn't it?"

Not that you can make some choices. He's strong enough to drag you and push you where he wants; also the knife he puts between your shoulder blades is another reason not to make any of them.

He pushes you through the doorway abruptly, making you stumble and bump against the shelf in front of you. In the meantime, he locked the door from the inside and, still unsatisfied, he slides the lock; then he starts looking at you as if he wanted to choose the best target of your body to hit. He stretches out his hand to you instead.

"Give me your phone."

You shake your head while dread runs behind your back, cold and horrible.

"No... Walker ... please. Not this. Please".

He jumps on you and you try to push him away. He slaps you and your face loses its sensitivity for long seconds.

"Don't touch me again!" he warns, pointing his finger on your face.

He unbuttons his jacket and shows at you its lining, covered with some stuff that looks like explosive. "You wouldn't like my little friends to blow up for joy now. Trust me."

You stop breathing. Walker is completely insane. Maybe you've seen too many action movies and hope it's just a nightmare.

"That's right, sweet Stephen. A single motion and... boooom. And now ... give me the phone!"

You aren't able to move as he takes your phone and all your willpower away.

"You'll die, too" you sigh.

"Oh, Brendan didn't tell you, did he? I'm already dead, and you guys are gonna follow me soon."

Your head is a shapeless and painful mess of thoughts, but you can do one thing before he texts Brendan and Brendan rushes to you. With a lovely imagine of him and your kids in your head, you fly at Walker, trying to take your phone back, and if you're going to blow up with him, so much the better. Brendan will understand that you did it for him.

Walker punches you again, pushing you onto the couch.

Your mouth is bleeding, and while you try to wipe away the blood, a bitter laugh climbs through your throat.

"I know why you're doing this" you say. "It's not about Brendan. It's about you. You hate yourself because you weren't able to look after your brother. It's your fault, not Brendan's".

"Nice try" he replays while he's texting a message, ignoring you.

"It's the truth and you know it" you add.

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"

You nod. "Yeah! And he knows how shush me every time".

"Disgusting"

"Exciting" you answer back, even if just the thought makes you feel a pang in your chest.

You make another try to take the phone away from him and this time you get it. Then you throw it against the wall, breaking it into dozens of small pieces, but your triumphant look falls instantly.

"Too late, dear Stephen. He's coming."

Your mouth bursts in a wild and desperate scream and your hands are around his neck at the same time. He hits you again and, immediately, all that you can see is a black oblivion.

When you recover your senses, you are seated and bound on a chair.

...

...

_Join me at the Club. A great surprise for you!_

You frown as you read Steven's text. Then you look at your sister at your side.

"What's up?" she ask.

"Nothing" You answer, awkward. "I should check something in the club and-"

"Come on, Brendan! You think I'm stupid, don't you?".

No, you don't think your sister is stupid at all, especially since the club is closed since a couple of mice ruined a party a few days ago. A weird thing, actually, but you and Steven had a whole night to yourselves at least.

"I know that face" she says again. "I'm just envious of you guys. Go! I'll find something else tonight... or someone."

You can see her looking for over your shoulder. A handsome lad is sitting alone, raising a pint towards her, and so you feel less guilty. Bottling up inside you your overprotective feelings for her, you kiss her on the cheek.

"Sorry, Chez. I love ye" you whisper and finally you leave in a hurry.

Your steps are overexcited. Steven's surprises usually turn your brain into a little mush, and all that you can think is his legs tightly wrapped around your neck and your cock pushing inside of him, deeper and harder. You are on seventh heaven and think that the last dark veil between you two is definitely torn apart. Since Leah and Lucas have left you've been thinking that unhappiness would have led your lives between crap sex and long faces, and that was inevitable, because you know how though it can be, not to see his own kids, become little more than a stranger for them.

As you enter the club you hope to find good music and Steven, lying on the counter, only dressed with a smile of his that make your heart dribble between your stomach and throat every single time. Silence is total, instead, and the counter is uncluttered except an empty glass. You stare the office's door and sneer happy. You rush to open the door, but it is locked.

"Steven! It's me. Open up!"

"Brendan!" you hear him shout. "He's crazy. Run away!"

At first you can't understand what's happening, but then you hear a voice that you had hoped not to hear for the rest of your life, and instantly feel your heart freeze.

"Hallo, Brendan!"

Soon after, your phone rings with a request for a video calling. As soon as you can see his hateful and pinched face, the blood seems to explode in your head, but as soon as Steven's face is on your display - blood on his lips, tears in his eyes - you are about to die.

Then Steven's face disappears and Walker's bloody grin comes back.

You look like you had suddenly lost the power of speech. So you take a deep breath and swallow your tears.

"What do you want, Simon?" you ask, disposed to negotiate anything; even your own balls, served on a silver platter, if it was necessary.

"Talking" he answers.

You wonder where he is going with all this. Are you terrified but, for a few seconds, you feel relieved because you still have time to hatch out a plan .

"I'd like to know what level your relationship is on. Call it... a whim"

"What do you really want, Simon?" you ask, trying to sound as calm as possible.

"Nothing from you, now" he replies. "Ste! Has Brendan ever tell you he chopped up a man? I mean literally. A corpse, to be more precise".

You can see Steven's face on the display again. His eyes are fixed on you and seem lightly incredulous, while you was waiting for horror and disgust.

"I'm sure about it because I put him out of his misery myself." Walker continues to say. "Funny, isn't it? Brendan had thought Joel had killed that man, but he was still alive, instead. I had to choke him and then I called police, but Brendan put all of us in the bag. He brought him in an desert place and then ... wham! Net shots. Cheryl told me. He did it to protect Joel. Right, Brendan? Has he ever done something so cute for you, Stephen?"

Steven doesn't answer, his eyes seem to dig down deep inside of you. He knows what you did for him, and what would you do again. Yes, you would.

"And you know why?" Walker continues. "I mean... why couldn't we take him down? Because he didn't trust me. Can you guess what I did then?"

You see Steven shaking his head slowly, and all that you want to do is breaking through that door, holding him tight, and smashing Walker for good.

"I did it... with him. It's incredible, isn't it? And I'm not even gay. It took me days to take his smell off. But... I thought it was useful somehow, I really did. Especially when he told me something he had never told anyone. Not even to you."

"Walker!" you shout out.

You want to stop it, but you can't. With your eyes fixed on the display, you rush to downstairs, towards the cellar, while Walker keeps talking to Steven and Steven's eyes drill down through your heart. You grab the crowbar and get back quickly, as Walker's laughter continues to drill through your ears.

"Brendan! Where have you been?"

"None of your business" you growl.

"This is such a pity! I'm telling your Stephen what we shared on the beach that day"

"Shut up!" you yell and simultaneously give a first blow at the door with the crowbar.

"Stop it, Brendan!" Walker's voice ends pretending to be friendly. "Stop it! If you don't want I slit Stephen's throat right now".

You drop the tool on the floor and your chest sobs as soon as Walker shows Steven's neck dangerously close to the blade of a knife.

"Simon" you sigh. "It's me what you want. He did nothing to you. He's got two kids. They don't deserve to lose their dad."

You hear him giggling. You knew your try was useless.

"But his kids left weeks ago. And Amy don't want to have nothing to do with their dad anymore. Because of you. Oh, you're thinking right, Brendan. It was me. But... speaking of kids. I met your father a while ago. Lovely person, you couldn't say he's a pedophile".

Steven's eyes wide open. You didn't want him to know this way.

"You're dying, Simon!"

"Yeah! I know... I know" replays Walker.

"Brendan? Is it true?" asks Steven shaking.

You feel your heart crumpling in a tin-foil ball. How many times you were about to tell him the dirtiest little secret of yours, but you were too shamed and...

"Sorry, Steven. I've tried to tell you, but I was scared."

"A father who abuses his own son could scare anyone" Walker mocks you. He Knows very well how hard he can hit you.

"Brendan..." Steven's voice is a little more than a whisper and his tears take your breath away.

He don't ask you if it's true, again. He knows.

Walker laughs and you grab the crowbar from the floor. The first shot on the door, you think, the next one for him. You're about to knock the door down as Steven speaks again and your hand shudders.

"I love you, Brendan".

And his eyes stare at you, imploring.

"I love you, Steven" you croak.

A moment later you let out a wild scream of anger and hit the door, trying to break the lock. Then you finally burst inside the room. You can just see Walker's knife darting towards you and a then his head cracking under your blows. Steven's screams reach you muffled and, at first, you think you are going to faint. You grit your teeth and pull the knife out of your body. The blood gushes out of your wound and drenches your clothes. You rush to Steven and untie him.

"Are you fine?" you ask.

He looks at you with an horrified expression. So you hug him, kissing his face for reassuring him and at the same time you reassure yourself that he is still alive.

"Come on! Let's go out of here!" you say, but after the first step, your legs fail and you vision blurs. You try again, but you feel like you are walking through mud and your breathing is getting weaker.

"You need to go to the hospital. Let me call for a help!" cries Steven.

You shake your head. "We need to go out of here".

Saying that, you are well-aware that even standing on your own is getting harder.

Steven holds you up while you wish to flop down.

"Go ahead, Steven! I'll wait here".

"No way! I'm not leaving you".

You always know that Steven is the most stubborn bloke you have ever met, but this is one of many reasons you fell in love with him.

He help you to seat on the floor with your back against the counter. You would like to say something, but your throat is dry and a sudden feeling of coldness floods your muscles.

He kisses your forehead, then go in the office again, kneels down next to Walker and picks up his phone.

Later, all that you can see is absolute horror.

He is still alive.

Despite the rage of your blows, Walker is not dead. He turns his shattered head, opens his blood-soaked eyes, raises his fucking hand and grabs Steven's foot, making him fall down.

And you can't do anything.

You lie motionless on the floor, looking at Steven who fights for his life and yours. You hear them yelling, swearing and, finally, Steven can pick up the near crowbar and smash Walker's head for good.

Your boy is a winner and you have always known this. Steven runs to you and turn white in front of your paleness. You feel his arms wrap around your shoulders; you can feel his body trembling against your heart, you can feel his heat, his strength.

Suddenly, the world around you two explodes into lights and flames, smoke and rubble.

Blood everywhere.

You instantly feel a nauseating smell of burning flesh but even more devastating it's the lack of Steven's breath against your lips, his pulse against your chest. He fell down on your body, as if he wanted you to protect. You start crying and praying and, in the meantime, stroke his face.

Your breathing is leaving you, but not quickly as Steven did, and you still have time for one single last prayer.

"God, please... let me die. Please..."

...

...

The last time your glance fell on the Chez-Chez, you saw Ste enter the club. Now you can see smoke coming out of the windows and hear the alarm screaming loud in the square. Someone has already called for a help. Fire, police, ambulance.

There was an explosion and you reckon Ste is still in the club. You aren't able to move your feet because of shock and, looking back for a moment, you think that you've experienced this too many times in your life.

You see people crowding in the space under the club and the police trying to push them away. Then, suddenly, your feet come unstuck from the floor and so you can run towards the Chez-Chez.

A policeman pushes you away.

"My partner", you cry. "Ste Hay, is in there, maybe. I need to know. Please".

The man looks at you sympathetic. You take advantage of his indecision and rush through the front door, but after you entered, one of the firefighter tells you that the stairs could be unsure, and so you stop while your shoes drench with the water that put out the fire; later, you can hear a voice from upstairs.

"Three men. Dead."

You cover your mouth with your hand; your breathing is frantic in your chest, holding back your need of crying.

"No... wait! One of them is still alive. A stretcher! NOW!"

Again.

However you are closer to him now than before, when you were married. Your devastating wedding.

A bad beginning. The worst ending.

And now, you find yourself to hold his hand in the ambulance that runs in the night, after you told the paramedic that you was his husband.

You have never been really religious, but now you hear yourself whispering a prayer of which you barely remember the words.

Ste is emaciated, broken, but strong enough to open his eyes and look at you.

"Brendan..." he croaks. "Where is Brendan?"

You're struggling to keep yourself strong in front of him, for him, but he knows you pretty well and find the answer straight in your eyes.

You think he is going to cry out. He ask you to get closer to him, instead.

"Rem... remember your promise... Doug".

You shake your head. You can't do it.

"Promise me... please"

Almost immediately his eyes roll in his head and the medical device starts bleeping. A paramedic pushes you away, checking Ste's pulse, then shout at the driver to go as quickly as possible.

After arrival in the hospital you can only wait, so you call Leanne and tell her what happened, but she already knew. News travels quickly in Hollyoaks. You ask about Cheryl, but she answers she didn't see her.

Then you hang on and then you bump into the nurse who took care of Ste while he was in a coma, months ago. She is kind and remembers of you and Ste, so she promises to bring you some news. She's back to you almost immediately. Ste's conditions are very serious. He suffers internal injuries and the doctors don't have many hopes. Perhaps his spine is broken and his right leg is crushed, they should amputate it. You start crying like a child because you know, you know that Ste doesn't want to be saved. You know this and, without Brendan in his life, he would even less. They are getting ready for the surgery. But he is unconscious. He can't choose. You promised to do this for him, even if you thought this day would never come, even if you're not ready to let him go. Not this way. Not now. Not ever.

You show the doctors the legal papers that you still keep in your wallet as if your story with Ste wasn't finished that day, when he had chosen and you too. You clear your throat.

"I'm Ste's husband and he appointed me to make decisions in his place if he hadn't been able to".

This is the most painful and bravest decision of all your life.

While the nurse is taking the oxygen off and starts to disconnect the wires, you remain standing next to Ste, holding his hand until it will become weaker and colder.

...

...

You blink once, twice and again, then you are dazzled by the cold and shining whiteness in front of you. Only a few seconds later you realize you aren't dead, because you feel like the pain is killing you. Your body is on fire, and as you try to open your mouth and say a word, your throat feel like it had been scratched with sandpaper. Someone rushes at your side, but you aren't able to make a motion.

You can hear his voice, though.

"Ste! Oh, my..."

His squeal pierces your head from side to side.

"NURSE! NURSE!"

You start thinking all this is a nightmare, that you're dreaming about all that you have already lived and you wonder if dead people can dream. Maybe you aren't dead dead, but more like not dead yet and, so, you have to make amends for all your sins in a place very similar to a hospital room, with a pain equal to a real one and where Doug's screams are a free gift by Purgatory.

However, you didn't believe this when you was in health and pretty happy, not even now that angels have got doctors' and nurses' faces.

After they have finished with you, there is a pain, the most terrible you have ever felt, in the middle of your chest, that takes your breath away.

Doug takes seat at your side onto the bed and starts looking at you with such a bright smile that you would like to remove from his mouth along with all of his teeth, if you could only raise your arms.

He starts talking about the whole story and tells you how lucky you were.

You can't even smile wryly.

"Lucky?"

"Yeah", he replays with a puzzled frown. "The doctors saved your leg and there is nothing seriously wrong with your spin. You have got more screws in your body than the whole Brooklyn Bridge, though. They removed a kidney of yours, but they say you can live well without it".

"How long have I been here?"

"For a while... I mean... you've been out about five days"

"Why?" you ask weakly.

"God, Ste! You was in a coma. You were almost dea-" he cries.

"I'm still alive, Doug. Why?"

He doesn't say a word, but looks at you with tears in his eyes. You start weeping, too, but for a different reason. You knew he had no balls to let you die, after all, but you can't forgive him, because you are still alive, whereas Brendan...

"NO!" you shout with all your breath, trying to reach the wires you are tied to.

"Stop it!" he cries out, holding your hands tight. "He's alive!"

You gasp. "What?"

"Yeah. Brendan's alive. His conditions were extremely serious when he was admitted. Everyone thought he was dead at first, but he's fine now".

"You're lying" you hiss.

"I'm not!"

"You're lying."

"_He's not!"_

Your eyes run to the door and Brendan is standing in front of you. Pale face, slimmed down, but alive.

He limps towards you. You can hear him panting and moaning.

Then he takes your hand and you can feel all his strength and heat and, finally, you know all of this is true.

...

...

"Mr. Brady! What are you doing here?"

You reluctantly pull your lips away from Steven's ones; the nurse looks at you with a dour expression. After days of transfusions and antibiotics, you were sure you could get away with her, this time at least. You try to show her the most pleading and convincing look of yours, but this doesn't work. It never has. You can say everything about you, except you're a soft puppy, and so, after you kissed the man of your life once again, you go out in the corridor, pretending to walk back to your room, whereas you remain next the door of Steven's room. Douglas is with you and, for the first time, you are embarrassed in front of him. You don't know well if you should get jealous because he stayed with Steven all the time you couldn't, or thank him for immediately informing you when Steven had woken up, after days he had been struggling for his life. Words don't come easy to you when it is a matter of feelings, but for some murky reason, they now sound so right.

"Thank you, Douglas."

He looks at you, smiling a bit, then he looks down as if his shoes were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Thank you" you continue to say, "for everything. If it wasn't for you..."

You aren't capable to talk on; the thought that Steven could be dead because of you freezes the blood in your veins and the rest of the words onto your tongue. If Douglas hadn't been so scared to put an end to Steven's life, yours would be ended at the same moment, and you wouldn't have no one to blame but yourself.

You bend your head down and close your eyes, trying to hold back your tears, but it is bloody hard. You were going to lose him for good.

Suddenly you feel Douglas' breath a little bit closer to you. You don't dare to look up.

"Ste was going to die because of you-"

"I know" you sniff.

"I haven't finished yet!" he says sternly. "He could be dead at this moment... because... Ste would give away his life a million times for you. This doesn't make me happy, 'course. But... at least I know you would do the same for him. I've never seen anyone like the two of you, more attached to each other than to their own life."

At this point, you look up and stare at him, puzzled. You wryly think you have been waiting for a lesson like this for ages, and in fact...

"So, Brendan, please... don't fuck it all up as usual!"

...

...

**Epilogue**

**.**

**.**

The hot bed is suffocating you, so you decide to get up earlier than usual and prepare your breakfast. You walk towards the kitchen on tiptoe so as not to wake anyone. Last night they argued again about the new holiday destination.

They can be so childish that you would like to slap them. Luckily then they locked in the bedroom for keeping the discussion on. Growing up you have learnt their fights last a blink and always end up behind a locked door and not surely for playing or fighting. Sometimes you laugh inside at the thought about that morning when you entered their room and saw... well... at that time you didn't understand right and ran away, terrified.

Let's face it: walking in your parents who are having sex is not the nicest thing in the world.

Sometimes, if instead it happen to you of thinking about it, right in front of them, you turn red and suddenly need to hide. However, this has not prevented you to stamp your feet with your mother and convince her to send you and your brother to spend a little time with your dads. This took months of battle but, now, you're with Lucas in their home in Dublin to spend the summer holidays with them, as you did the past six years.

When you hear them walking in the kitchen, you are afraid you disturbed them, instead they greet you, smiling and happy. Brendan's arms are wrapped around your father's waist, and their gait is awkward and ridiculous, as if they were a only body with two arms and four legs.

"Ohi!" you exclaim, trying to make a stern face. "There are children in this house."

Brendan clears his throat, but his 'sorry' still sounds hoarse. Your father rushes to heat some coffee, while Brendan grabs some cereals. Your cereals.

"So ... where are we going this time?" you ask innocently.

"Switzerland" answers your father firmly, as Brendan stares at him, frowning.

"We decided for Spain." he replies.

"Not at all," objects your father. "If you well remember I won, so we're spending the summer in the mountains. Fresh air, warm clothes."

"You remember wrong". Protests the other one . "We were agreed on sun, sea and mojitos".

"I don't remember this"

"Yeah!" says Brendan emphatically, raising three of his fingers before Steven's eyes. "After the third round".

You father turns scarlet.

"It's summer" adds Brendan. "Everybody suppose to go to the sea in summer ."

"I hate the sea" resumes your father. "Too uncovered people."

"Exactly!"

You sigh in exasperation. It's the same old story, every time.

"Yeah! Because you can't wait to feast your eyes on dozen guys in thong".

"It's stupid."

"Don't call me stupid!"

"I didn't say you're stupid. I said what you said is stupid."

You would want to bang your head against the table. You and Lucas prefer the sea, of course, but you know why your father hates it. Because since the 'accident', seven years ago, he is covered of scars and his left leg is not in good condition, and when he is excessively nervous, he limps more than usual. Daddy Brendan tells him that he is beautiful and show him his own scar on the left side, because his spleen was removed after the same 'accident'.

"I'm sick of all this!" blurts out you father; later, limping, walk away towards the bedroom.

"Oh, come on, Steven!"

Brendan go after him, letting the breakfast untouched on the table, the door locked again.

Same old, same old.

You wonder if your family is normal, and your eyes for change fall on the photo at your side. You, Lucas and your dads, Disneyland 2016, a hug smile that could fill the whole house. Your family isn't normal, you know that, but just this make you the most lucky girl on earth.


	4. Emergency exit - part 1

**Autor: Scar**

**Rating: M**

**Characters in order of appearance : Brendan Brady, Douglas Carter, Jim McGinn, Cheryl Brady, Ste Hay**

**Summary: This fic is divided in three parts and set in the future, after two years Brendan was arrested. Likely It's gonna be the last fic of the Exits series, for this reason I wanted it to call: Emergency exit. No worry, it's gonna be an happy ending. As usual, I want to say sorry for any mistakes. I'm a human being; in the first place an Italian human being, without beta-reader at the moment. *sobs***

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Emergency exit**

**.**

**.**

**part 1**

**.**

**.**

_Who could have predicted an end so sad? _

_Should I not shed hot tears of blood? _

_Sleep, my love, sleep tight. _

_Your moans are sad and deep as groans of death. _

_How can I resist? _

_How can I not cry if your voice comes straight into my heart? _

_Tears fall on my pain. _

_Sleep, my love, sleep tight._

[Kurdish song]

.

.

.

The last time you saw someone from Hollyoaks was at the plea hearing.

You saw him in the audience with the corner of your eye, then you swiftly looked away from him and start staring at the judge all the time, but you felt Steven's eyes burn over you all the time, as if he asked you looked back in his direction. Still now you don't know how you didn't that. You left the court room without stealing another glance at him, because you felt it was the only way. He had to move on, despite you.

The last time you read the name of Steven was on all of the letters that arrived every week and you sent back without reading.

You know it was the only way. He had to hate and forget you. After a year, Steven stopped writing.

The last time your lips uttered 'Steven' was this morning.

You have been having very vivid dreams about him for two years by now. Every night you get the illusion that it is never over between you two; at the same time, you know you're losing sense of reality. Yet another year, you will lose it through-and-through, as soon as the image of Steven, flashing before your eyes, will become so concrete that you could talk with it for hours. Sooner or later someone will begin to notice that and you will end up in the mental health hospital, among people like you, before you know it.

The last time you saw someone from Hollyoaks it was about Steven.

Today, it is about someone you would never expect to see again. At first you didn't want to meet him; later, the prospect of getting any news about Steven, that assured yourself that he was serene at least, has taken the upper hand. Perhaps Doug is going to tell you that he's back with him and the two of them are now happier than ever. To be honest you would rather see him with everyone but him. However, you reasonably think that it's better this way, because in spite of everything, you know Doug is the safest choice and he wouldn't harm a hair on the Steven's head. Your Steven.

You curl your lip in an annoyed grimace and correct yourself: Steven isn't yours anymore.

And still you should stop imagining him the way you did last night: at first dancing gently on your hips, then more frantically until you cum in your hand like a teenager in the first hormones rush. Finally he cuddles against your body and warms you with the power of your memories, until the morning.

Douglas stares at you as you sit in front of him. You expected he threw his happiness against your face, but instead he doesn't look like someone who is walking on clouds for winning his man back. His eyes are sunken and dark-rimmed. He doesn't look at you like before, when the devil himself seemed to be in front of him, or as if he wanted to push a knife a little deeper in your wounds.

"Hello, Douglas" you begin, so to break the ice.

"Brendan" he answers simply.

You notice he stares at you too hard. You scratch your chin, covered with a thick beard, and need something random to say to ease this discomfort.

"It suits me, isn't it? "

"Honestly?" he replies in a sharp tone. "I don't give a damn."

Well - you think, as you straighten up on the chair and tighten your lips - fortunately, this conversation isn't going to be a celebration of hypocrisy.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Douglas?" you ask in a detached manner.

"I wanna talk to you about Ste."

The corner of your lips twitches nervously.

"Of course" you say sharply. "Well, if you're gonna tell me how truly you love each other and happily together you are, your trip was useless because I already know it."

You decide to end that conversation quickly and get up all of a sudden, but Douglas stops you, grabbing your wrist. You are surprise because of his gesture rather than its weak force.

"Me and Ste... are not together," he hisses softly. "And you should to listen to me. Now ".

You take a breath and sit back.

"Tell me."

"Ste's not fine"

"He's sick?" you ask in a alarmed tone.

He nods. "At first inside of him, lately... he's unrecognizable even from outside."

"What's wrong with him?"

"What's wrong?" He repeats, popping a nervous laugh. "Alcohol, drugs, one-night stands ... God, I doubt he has been using a protection every time. May I go on? "

You remain silent and your eyes start burning.

"He was no longer able to take care of his old apartment and so I asked him to move in with me. Thank God, he accepted. "

"Great! So you've set the stage, Douglas, have ye?" you're trying to seem ironic, but the lump in your throat is so tight that seems choke you.

"You don't understand, do you?" He replies, shaking his head in exasperation. "It was a good thing, because three days ago, I came back home early because I had forgotten my phone and I found him deeply asleep. Pills and alcohol, Brendan. He's been saved just in time. "

Your heart leaps in your chest, painfully. "What happened to him?"

"Do I need to make myself clearer ? He tried to kill himself. Now he's out of danger. He's still in hospital, but he'll come back home tomorrow and ... to be frank ... I don't know if he'll going to be so lucky... the next time. "

You rub your face and only now you realize it is soaked with tears. You take a deep and wet breath. "He needs help. Search for the best doctor... I've some money saved up and-"

"Christ, Brendan!" he interrupts you, slamming his palm on the table that separates you two. Half of people turn towards you and start watching. "Ste doesn't need money... he needs you! "

Your sneer appears soon after. "Do you reckon it's a good thing for him... coming here... I mean? In here? Seriously?"

"Could you be the one to visit him."

You shake your head, sighing. "Have you looked well around, Douglas? This is not exactly a spa. I've to stay locked up for 15 years . "

"Your lawyer was very good" he says with contempt. "If it were up to me you should stay locked up for life".

"Thanks for the thought, Douglas."

"You're welcome".

The following silence seems to weigh as much as a mountain on your shoulders and the thought of Steven, out there, who's consuming himself a bit at a time, lets drop a plaque on your heart. And you can't do anything to lift it.

"I know you didn't kill your father."

Douglas' statement adds another burden.

"Who says so?"

"You have no idea how talkative Ste becomes after a couple of drinks."

"What did he say?"

"Everything"

Your expression freezes on your face and a painful coldness invades your muscles.

Douglas confirms. "He told me everything. Please, don't blame him. Likely, he doesn't even remember about it. "

You pinch your nose, snorting heavily. This shouldn't have happened.

"What are you gonna do?" he asks you, his eyes wide open, as an owl that is looking for his prey in the darkness.

"What should I do?"

"I think you should ask for an appeal. I reckon you'd be out of here in less than a month, free like a bird."

"I can't do it."

"Why?"

"I have to take care of my family?"

"And Ste?"

Of course, you care about him as well, every day, actually since you met his gaze for the first time. He is inside of you every holy moment of the day. But you cannot do anything to solve the problem, just as you cannot do anything to stop thinking of him.

You shake your head in denial.

"I see," replies Douglas, and his tone sounds like the blade of a verdict. "If he asks again, I'll know what answering then."

"What?"

"That you don't give a shit about him."

You jump up from the chair and instinctively grab Douglas by the collar of his jacket.

Old habits die hard.

Luckily, you take your hands off of him instantly, before the surveillance notice it. You plop down on the chair like a dead weight, your face buried in your hands.

When you open your eyes and look up, Douglas has already gone.


	5. Emergency exit - part 2

**I'm very happy for your positive feedback and thank all of you for reading, especially the precious lovely people who reviewed. I appreciated it very much. It really means a lot to me. Here is the second part. Please, keep on being nice. Remember that English is not my native tongue. Also, it was very difficult to write about trial or courts or whatever, while I don't even know Italian justice.**

**Enjoy!**

**Scar**

* * *

**Emergency exit**

**.**

**.**

**Part 2**

**.**

**.**

**.**

_Oh, Lord, help me walk  
Another mile, just one more mile;  
I'm tired of walkin' all alone._

_And Lord, help me to smile_  
_Another smile, just one more smile;_  
_Don't think I can do things on my own._

_I never thought I needed help before;_  
_Thought that I could get by - by myself._  
_But now I know I just can't take it any more._  
_And with a humble heart, on bended knee,_  
_I'm beggin' You please for help_

[Help me – Johnny Cash]

.

.

.

.There are two things in the world which make James McGinn more interesting than his appearance: a deep love for money and a serious addiction to desperate cases.

You can offer him them both, especially the latter, since you are not swimming in gold anymore. From the sale of the Chez Chez you held very little money for yourself, after dividing out most of it among your children, your defense and a considerable cheque mysteriously credited to the deli's account. You own a flat in Dublin, though, and you appointed James to sell it, so you can withdraw what you need for his exorbitant fees.

But he is not yet convinced.

"It's not easy preparing for an appeal without further evidence. You confessed to killing your father and you have been saved from a life sentence and four murder charges thanks to me and a lot of luck. I don't think it's convenient digging up bones. "

"What have I got to lose?"

"Absolutely nothing. At most the Crown Court would confirm the sentence. "

You stare back his skeptical gaze. "I want to go out, James." you say firmly.

He rubs at his forehead thoughtfully, as if he had to do with someone who is asking for a miracle. That's exactly what you need.

"Listen, Brendan" he begins, suddenly lowering his voice and moving closer to your ear. "The only thing we have to ask for is another psychiatric evaluation. We can turn the mental disorder into infirmity and then-"

"I'm not mental."

"Your speech doesn't sound really persuasive to me" he mocks "I'm pretty sure the jurors would agree with me... but you'd end up in a psychiatric hospital and not yet as a free man anyway. "

"I said I want go out, indeed. I could say I acted in self-defence" you suggest.

"After two years?" he replays doubtfully. "We need evidence, Brendan. Testimonies ".

You sigh heavily. You already know that, of course, but you wonder why you're going to share your shit again while you swore 'Never again'.

"My father..." you say, your heart starts beating faster. You take a deep breath and spit in one shot. "My father abused me."

He frowns as if he were struggling to listen to you carefully or to make sure that you aren't taking the piss out of him.

"He abused me" you repeat more slowly, "he sexually abused me since the age of eight and he kept doing it until puberty. Then, he went on with psychological abuse until the day of his death."

You notice a slight shaking in his lips. But you know, because of his work, he is definitely accustomed to hear the strangest things.

"Evidence?"

"What do you mean?"

"Medical reports ... people who knew... "

You shake your head slowly. "It was a secret between the two of us. The only people who knew are dead by now. "

"It's only your word then?"

You nod grimly. "The night he died, he tried to do it again ... I have no idea what he was going to do, actually, because I was terrified. I was like a child again. He hit me, I fell down, thus... I shot him. "

"Why on earth didn't you say this two years ago?"

You realize you are shaking and your forehead is sweaty. Maybe that's why James has no doubt about your sincerity. In your mind you feel compelled to thank him, but you don't do it. He gives you a tissue and you wipe your forehead, and your eyes.

A second later you smile bitterly.

"It's not exactly something cute to say around, is it?"

"I think... that's a horrible thing anyway".

You raise your eyebrows.

"What?" he says slightly offended. "Even lawyers have their integrity, Brendan. Anyway... what made you change your mind?"

You close your eyes for a few moments and sigh deeply. "A good reason".

Then you look up at him straight in his eyes.

You can almost see, through them, his brain working like a well-oiled mechanism.

Too bad that such a portentous brain lies in a so cheap box.

"First of all you have to submit to psychiatric evaluation again and-" he stops and starts rubbing his chin with small, gentle circular motions. "If only you hadn't shoot him in the back..." he stops to think again, "If only there was a witness ... only one would be more than enough."

A witness exists, actually, but you're not going to drag your little sister in Court. She is so emotive that she would ruin everything.

"Just-" he continues to say, as if he was in another world, his own.

You tilt your head back and stare at the ceiling as if you wanted to reflect, but you have too many things to hide to find something good that is not a lie.

"One moment" you light up all of a sudden. "There's someone who knows. He still lives in Hollyoaks, I guess. "

.

.

.

You had forgotten the sweet feeling of waiting in the unforgiving running of the days.

Seventeen years are practically like a life sentence because you're almost sure you won't get out of here alive before the end. You have a slight glimmer of hope in your heart and that sweetness on your tongue that now fills the time gap between a tick and tock.

First you need to see James again and keep believing in his tenacity. Otherwise, your time will become again so infinite and meaningless that you might find yourself on the roof of the prison before you realize it.

As the saying goes : "It always seems impossible until it is done."

And you believe it. You need to.

For you. For Steven.

Also, what have you got to lose besides what you've already lost?

As you enter the private chat room, you see James sit down with a worried glance at his files and, in the meantime, you feel your glimmer of hope solidify, start cracking and, in the end, shrink in microscopic dust, while that sweet feeling turns in bitterness on your tongue.

You plop down on the chair in front of him, head down, waiting for the blow.

"Good news and bad news Brendan." he says all of a sudden.

'Which ones do you want to hear first?' you add in your mind.

But he doesn't say it and you remain silent waiting for the noose to tighten up around your neck with a single tug.

"The good news are you don't have to sell the flat in Dublin"

You raise your head and look up at him frowning.

"Yeah!" he confirms. "The person you told me to look for has a debt with you and gave me all the money with which you paid him two years ago. He didn't touch a penny. Thirty-five grands, in cash."

He whistles in appreciation. "It's almost more convenient being an enemy of yours."

He laughs alone to his stupid joke, because he knows he costed to you a lot more than Thirty-five thousand pounds. "Sorry," he says quickly.

"Also, Kevin Foster will come spontaneously to testify in your favor, revealing everything he knows. He even has all the numbers to soften the jury. "

In the following silence, you can hear the almost solid echo of a 'but'.

"I think his testimony is enough to go to the Crown Court," he adds; yet, that unsaid 'but' creeps inside of you as you were waiting for bad news.

In fact, it is coming.

"but I don't think it's enough to cancel the first verdict. The jury can believe him or not. Honestly? I wouldn't bet one penny."

"What have I got to lose?"

This question has become like a mantra by now.

"We're going to appeal the verdict," he concludes, giving a slight pat on your back.

And, inside of you, you feel something very similar to happiness, the beginning of it at least. You'd like almost to hug him. Almost.

"Another favour..." you start doubtfully. "Steven Hay. Tell him-"

He looks at you curiously.

"No matter. Don't tell him anything" you continue. "Just keep an eye on him, okay? Talk with Douglas Carter instead. Tell him what's happening, but ask him not to talk to Steven about it. Promise me. "

He nods. "Okay!" he says as soon as he places the coat on his arm. "Hopefully I can give you a definitive answer within a couple of weeks and... Brendan? "

"What?"

"Shave it all off!"


	6. Emergency exit - part 3

6

**I feel honored and pleased for your reviews. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, too, even if I made some mistakes and it gets a little bit boring. Law's stuff is absolutely not my thing.**

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**Part 3**

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_Because of you _

_I never stray too far from the sidewalk _

_Because of you _

_I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt _

_Because of you _

_I try my hardest just to forget everything _

_Because of you _

_I don't know how to let anyone else in _

_Because of you _

_I'm ashamed of my life _

_because it's empty _

_Because of you _

_I am afraid _

[Because of you_ - _Kelly Clarkson]

.

.

.

James McGinn would be able to make good business selling ice in the North Pole.

He is the only one who could bring you to court with evidence he wouldn't bet one penny on. False.

You have been in torment every day and night in your cell, until this moment. And as a police officer push you into the glass cage, you are even more scared, because it is like entering the lions' den, and you know for sure that no piece of you will remain at the end of it all, however things go.

In a few minutes, the most miserable part of your life - that you've always tried to hide deeper - will become public knowledge, and you have no clue how to deal with the consequences. Only the thought of Steven warms your heart, giving you courage to face the beast you has learned to keep bottled up inside of you.

The thought of Steven and a bit of recklessness.

The same recklessness that made you agree to play your role in this farce and previously decide to go to the barber of the prison because, according to James, a clean-shaven Brendan Brady looks much less threatening.

The light gray suits lend you an impeccable style and the appearance of a nice guy who is going to bare his soul in front of people who are going to decide about his fate.

Your eyes slowly slide over the courtroom, hoping not to see any familiar faces in the crowd; but, before you can sigh of relief, you recognize Nancy Osborne, with her pen, notepad and tape recorder. Fifteen years in prison suddenly are nothing compared to seeing your life placed on the front page of a local newspaper. The only thing you would like to do is running away from here right now. But you can't.

After the usual ritual formulas, James calls to depose the psychologist who has been analyzing you in the final two weeks. Antisocial personality disorder is his response. A list of what you are like, or used to be in the past, has been drawn up with cold technical rigor. James steps-in and asks about the causes of such disorder.

"Studies have shown that antisocial people come out of families with abusive parents" replies the psychologist.

"Is it possible that such disorder is a direct consequence of sexual abuse in childhood ?" asks James.

The psychologist nods. "Yes, it is."

"Is it likely that this is the case of Mr. Brady?"

The psychologist nods again. "Yes, it is."

The doctor takes back his seat in the audience. You are afraid to turn towards Nancy again. You can't imagine how her expression might be when she will find out the truth about the man who 'heroically' saved Charlie, two years ago.

And this makes you feel even worse.

A few seconds later, James calls to depose Kevin Foster and you realize, even in this uncertain situation, you would prefer not to have to meet him again. You know, deep down, that he has done what he has because of Simon Walker; you know he risked his own life because he refused to kill Maxine; you know it was thanks to him that Steven and Cheryl are still alive. However, even after years, seeing him a few feet away from you, with his empty eyes and his damn lost expression, makes the blood boil in your veins. Because it was his fault if you and Steven have been spending the most of time arguing rather than make love; it was his fault if Amy took Leah and Lucas away from you two; and still it was his fault if the beast you had managed to assuage in your chest suddenly awakened, and you hit Steven again. You had sworn, to him first and then to yourself, not to do it anymore. Your hands stained with Steven's blood and yours at that distant and mad moment; they are shaking now, and the detailed memories obscure your mind.

The prosecutor is a woman. She does not understand, or pretends not to understand, what the purpose of the defence is. But James McGinn knows how to play his cards very well, and taking the opponent by surprise is one of them.

Later, Kevin answers with trembling voice and tears in his eyes. A consummate actor, you ironically comment in your head.

"So... Simon Walker wanted you were closer to Mr. Brady. How? "

"He told me to tell him a story."

"Can you be more specific?"

"I told Brendan ... that, when I was younger, I had received ... special attentions by an uncle of mine... Roger ".

"Robert!"

Your mouth opens before you know it and you find yourself standing and your hands pressed against the glass.

"I'm sorry," you croaks to the judge and you sit back as if a ton of stones pulled you downward.

"Roger or Robert?" asks James.

Kevin takes a deep breath. "Neither. I invented that story, so a name was as good as another. "

"And why did you invent that story about sexual abuse... while you were talking about special attentions you were meaning this... weren't you? "

"Yeah."

"Why could that story have brought you closer to Mr. Brady? "

"Because Walker told me he had known a secret about Brendan."

"What secret?"

"He told me... that Brendan, as a child, was abused by his father."

A chorus of incredulous astonishment rises from the courtroom, as your eyes turn finally towards the back of the room, where Nancy looks at you with an expression of genuine horror. Now, your whole body is shaking.

In the meantime, the prosecutor tries to discredit the deponent in every possible way, but as soon as you look at James you notice a sly smile on his face and you know that he is satisfied by the impact of those statements on the jurors.

You take a deep breath and think your torture is finally over. Maybe you are going to remain still locked up for 15 years, maybe less with the extenuating circumstances. The thought that you could be a free man within tomorrow has abandoned you by now.

James calls the psychologist on the witness stand again. You turn to look at him with a questioning look, but James makes a gesture to reassure you. His face doesn't look like someone's who is improvising, but still this doesn't reassure you at all.

You are confused, agitated. This time he talks about suicide and you do not know why he raised such issue.

"According to the analysis performed, are there suicidal instincts in Mr. Brady?"

"I think so. In Mr. Brady there is a combination of several factors: hopelessness, low self-esteem, an aggressiveness that he caters against himself when he's not able to punish the ones who hurt him. "

"Is it possible that people who have been sexually abused in their childhood will develop such features in adulthood?"

"Of course. Such traumas usually cause brain damage that can lead to devastating consequences over time. The cancellation of a traumatic event is a defence mechanism, but it can lead to chronic depression, self-flagellation, and even suicide if they haven't processed the trauma. They can also develop deviance. "

"And if the traumatic event is not removed, but it is right there, in all its gruesome detail, so much so that it is subject of nightmares the most of the time ?"

"The consequences are devastating in both cases without a proper psychological support."

"Do you Know if Mr. Brady has received a sort of psychological support for his trauma?"

"No, he hasn't."

Soon after, the prosecution takes his place.

She want to prove that you're not a depressed person. You've spent two years in prison so far, and you have not yet put a rope around your neck.

"Doesn't it seem strange that such a 'devastated' person, as Mr. Brady is, hasn't ever attempted suicide in the past two years. The jails usually are full of depressed people who try in every way to put an end to their own miseries."

"When I analyzed Mr. Brady, the first time I saw him, I noticed something I've seen very few times in my experience."

" Can you tell us what?"

"Mr. Brady looked resigned to his fate ... I could say almost happy. "

"Happy? Was he happy for killing his father, maybe? "

"No, I didn't mean this" replied hesitantly the psychologist, and you can almost hear him talking as man rather than as specialist. "He looked happy to be in prison. Even the prison itself may be considered a form of self-annihilation. In other words, a form of suicide. This is Mr. Brady's case at least. "

The answer gets the desired effect, so much that even the accusation falls silent, while you can almost hear James chuckling.

"The defence calls to depose Peter Joseph Hammill, from Belfast."

You weren't expecting this: Peter here, today, with his wheelchair before the Court, after winking and smiling to you.

You do not dare wonder how James knew about him and, more importantly, what he has in his mind.

You close your eyes and bury your face in your hands for a while. Your resistance is reaching the alarm level.

You can barely hear their voices.

"So ... my client tried to kiss you. And you rejected him. "

Peter nods with a slight grin. "Of course. I'm not gay. I never was. Actually, I didn't know he was until that moment. "

"Tell us, please, about the accident."

"Brendan had been drinking a lot and I blamed him for years for this, but now not any more"

"Why?"

"I went to Hollyoaks because I wanted to say everything"

"About what?"

"I wanted to tell everyone about his homosexuality, because I knew that he was in the closet and that was the only way to hurt him."

"Did you do it?"

"No, I didn't"

"Why?"

"Because we talked and I found out Brendan had tried to kill himself during that terrible night, driving the car against a truck, but then he suddenly swerved and we ended up off the road. I lost the use of my legs and my life has totally changed. Brendan disappeared from my sight. Later I knew he had married and left for Dublin. "

"Have you seen him in the long run between the accident and your arrival to Hollyoaks?"

"Occasionally, but our friendship was definitely over."

"And now how is the relationship between you two?"

Peter turns to you waiting for you are going to look up. Then he smiles.

"We aren't in contact anymore, but it doesn't mean that someone stop caring about someone else."

You release the breath you had held and then smile to him back.

"So... could you say that there is no more feelings of anger against my client?"

"Exactly."

James opens his mouth to make another question. But Peter precedes him.

"You need to know that we were both very young and, because of my job, I have unfortunately had indirectly to deal with similar cases, so I got it at the end. I realized he felt guilty and ashamed because of the fact that I knew about his secret. And I just recently found out something else"

" About what?"

"For several years he regularly sent money to my parents so that I could resume my studies. I haven't yet had the opportunity to thank him. "

"Someone could see this as a gesture to clean his own conscience" intervenes James. "Did you expect this from him?"

Peter shakes his head. "Honestly I didn't. But it reminded me about that Brendan who once used to be my best friend. If Brendan cares about you, he'll do anything for you. "

"Like what?" asks James. "Giving money? Killing someone? "

You cast an astonished glance at your lawyer. It is supposed that he should defend you, not ruin you. You hold your breath again.

Peter nods. "But, principally, get killed. He has always been extremely protective", he adds.

James stays in silent for a while and let the jury elaborate the last informations.

"Tell us about the relationship between my client and his father, please."

You can see Peter take a deep breath and his powerful shoulders rise of several inches.

"Brendan didn't use willingly to talk about his family, except about Cheryl. Brendan has always loved his sister very much. "

"So you don't know how their relationship was, Do you?"

"I saw Mr. Brady a very few times and he was nice to me, but once ..." he stops and starts staring at you very intently.

"Once... what?"

Peter turns back to James, as if he is awaking from a dream with open eyes.

"Once ... I went his home. Brendan couldn't get out because he had to baby-sit her sister, and I heard him arguing with his father in the kitchen. Mr. Brady called Brendan, Brenda. After his father left, Brendan freaked out and destroyed our science project. "

"Anything else?"

"While he was demolishing the project, he was shouting: 'I am not a girl! I'm not a girl! ' Then he locked in the bathroom for about fifteen minutes and I heard him vomit. When he came out he was pale. He began to joke saying that he had eaten something rotten. We were both very young, fourteen - fifteen years at the most. Such outbursts of anger are normal at this age. We didn't talk about it and we started to study as if nothing had happened. "

Later, the prosecutor is very harsh with Peter saying that his speech is just a speculation, that he had never known the real Brendan Brady. He did not know neither you were gay, nor how your relationship with your father was. He had never heard of sexual abuse.

In these last words, you see Peter's face whiten; he murmur a weak 'Bren' as if he wanted to jump up to you and hug you. Only God knows how much you need it at this moment.

Peter leaves the courtroom with thumb up in your direction. This is enough to temper the horrible tension of the last quarter of an hour.

Soon after, it's the Chief inspector turn who arrested you and your level of patience is starting to flash red.

James asks about the dynamics of the night when your father died, eluding the confession of your crimes that have never been taken into account because you did it before the police introduced the arrest procedure. You are saved from those charges and a life sentence thanks just to a legal technicality and lack of evidence, but perhaps only right now you realize that it was a good thing.

"How did Mr. Brady react when you told him to surrender?"

"He faced us with a gun."

"Did he shoot?"

Obviously this thing has been made clear in the first trial, two years ago, but you can finally understand what your defender's intentions are. Maybe.

"He couldn't," replied the inspector hesitant. "The weapon wasn't loaded, but we found out that later."

"In your opinion, is it possible that my client did not know it?"

"I doubt it. The bullets were scattered on the floor in the club and it's impossible that the gun did it by itself. "

"So this means that my client had previously removed the bullets from the gun and then faced a whole team of cops ... with a unloaded weapon? "

"I've already said this in the trial"

"Will you repeat that, please"

"The gun wasn't loaded, but we couldn't know it, so the crack shot hit him."

"How do you define such behavior by Mr. Brady."

The inspector snorts a brief grin. "A real suicide attempt, I guess ... but we usually disarm or at most hurt a person."

"But Mr. Brady couldn't know that" replies James.

The officer remains silent. The prosecution hasn't any further questions.

You reckon it's over now and that jurors are going to declare you to be mentally insane, and so you will spent your last days in a mental hospital as James had predicted. But then you see him confer with the judge. Their mysterious confabulation adds more tension inside of you.

The judge asks for your attention.

"Mr. McGinn asks if you would get out of the courtroom. What is your decision about it, Mr. Brady? "

You frown in disbelief. "No. .. no ... I want to stay here"

"Mr. McGinn thinks that the next deposition could be ... shocking for you. "

"What?"

You stare at James, puzzled. When you refuse to leave - and you have the right to do it - he looks at you dejected, and you wonder again what he has in mind. The first name you think is Steven. Is it possible that James is going to call Steven to testify for you? You would be upset, of course. For two years, you two haven't been seeing each other; at the same time you have been constantly thinking of him. But you do not know if seeing him again, in this situation, will be a good thing.

James and the prosecution go back to their places. James asks permission to make a brief introduction before calling the next deponent.

"I would just like to point out to you, ladies and gentlemen of the court, that Brendan Brady was condemned after confessing he had killed his father, Seamus Brady, but fresh evidence has recently come to light. According to what has been declared in the first verdict, Brendan Brady have antisocial personality disorder. But, in my opinion, the causes of this disorder have been underestimated. Lately, thanks to his cooperation and the depositions, we found out other aspects of his personality, and you jurors should think about these very carefully. Brendan Brady has been victim of sexual abuse since the age of eight until the age of eleven because of someone who should have protect him, his own father. This is because the abused child often don't process the abuse and tends to have a ravaged mind in adulthood. It will remain forever that way. The last testimonies have also highlighted two other aspects of Brendan Brady's personality: a persistent guilt, that led him to desire his own death on several occasions, and a sense of obsessive protection towards people he loves: relatives, friends, his partner. Brendan Brady would do anything to protect them, like getting killed or being locked up, because of guilty feelings that characterizes him and all the victims of abuse, to who being told, over and over, that 'bad things happen to bad people. '"

Your level of resistance is exhausted. The little light is flashing red without stopping, and you can almost hear a kind of alarm, as if you were a nuclear power plant about to explode in the air. You are not sure if you can keep calm. You do not know if you won't going to explode when Steven will cross the threshold of the courtroom.

"The defence calls -"

James looks at you a second. You beg him with your eyes, shaking your head. He can't do this to you. He knows you can't handle. He was right. You shouldn't be here. You close your eyes, trying to find enough strength inside of you. You try your best. You can't. You start praying.

"Cheryl Brady!"

_Jesus..._

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	7. Emergency exit - part 4

**Originally this fic was supposed to have only 3 chapters. The next installment will be the last one, I promise. **

**This chapter gave me a lot of troubles, first of all for grammar, then Law stuff, I invented everythng. I don't know, maybe I messed it up, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.**

**Thank all of you for reviewing. Your appreciation, guys, helps my writing. Thank you very much.**

**PS: I deleted the 7th chapter because I had noticed a bunch of horrible mistakes. I'm so sorry. I tried to fix it and I hope the chap's more comprensibile now. I'm exhausted. A day for writing it and a week for editing. I need a beta-reader desperately.**

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**Part 4**

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_This is the first day of my life  
I swear I was born right in the doorway  
I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed  
They're spreading blankets on the beach_

Yours is the first face that I saw  
I think I was blind before I met you  
Now I don't know where I am  
I don't know where I've been  
But I know where I want to go

_[First day of my life – Bright eyes]_

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_This._

_Is._

_Not._

_Happening._

Cheryl walks up to the witness stand slowly. Chin up. Shoulders back. Like a perfect lady.

However, her face is thinner and paler than the last time and her womb now carries the fruit of her love. In one of her last letter, she had written to be pregnant, and you had imagined a smile brightening her face. Not this. You can't stand to see her so fragile and worried. And, first of all, here.

She casts you a fleeting glance, then looks down, as if she felt guilty and ashamed about the way she has been able to move on. But she shouldn't, you think. You took her fault away from her about two years ago.

It wasn't easy. It wasn't planned. That was necessary.

Why did she not yet understand it?

Until a few weeks ago you really thought that Steven and Cheryl were fine. Well, that has been being, all the time, the only thing that kept you safe from losing your mind and your life.

But you were wrong. None of them was okay.

"I would just like to make a clarification " she says in a soft voice. "I'm Mrs. Tenbury-Newent, actually ."

James clears his throat. "My sincerest apologies, Mrs. Tenbury-Newent." he replies, then puts a file onto the judges' bench. "This is her affidavit. "

In the meantime, you try in vain to get your sister's attention, hoping Cheryl is not going to do what you are thinking about, but her suffering face reveals quite the contrary.

In any case, James was supposed to inform you. And now you feel like betrayed.

After the usual formalities, the judge gives permission to start the deposition.

And so... she starts.

"I was into the club, the night ... the night of the murder. "

"NO!"

Your shout reverberates through the glass cage. Everyone in the audience turns in your direction. Everyone but Cheryl.

"Mr. Brady!" the judge warns you. "Whatever you need to say, please do it after the deposition is ended."

But this is exactly what hasn't to happen.

"Cheryl, please don't!" you beg her, in the hope that she's going to look at you and you will be able to convince her again just as you did that damned night.

"I was in the club ..." she continues in a shaky and cracking voice, "... and I saw what my father was trying to do. It was horrible. He used to be my hero... till I found out It's all been a big lie."

"CHERYL!" you shout at the top of your lungs.

"Mr. Brady!" the judge rebukes you a second time.

If you go on this way you will have no more chance of avoiding the catastrofe.

"What really happened ?" asks James quietly.

"I brought a gun. I had found it. I had no idea what I was doing... but as I saw my dad hitting Brendan... I shot him. "

"NO!" you shout again. "It's not the truth!"

You starts banging your fists against the glass and the fact that Cheryl doesn't turn towards you increases your rage.

"This explains why the victim was shot to his back, at long distance. He was hitting Brendan and you shot him for saving your brother's life. Is it right?"

Cheryl nods.

Then, finally, she turns, her eyes teary. "I'm sorry, Bren. I can't let you keep paying because of me. I can't do it anymore".

"It's very serious what you said, Mrs. Tenbury-Newent" intervenes the prosecution. "This means you lied in the first questioning, you lied under oath in the trial, and now ... we should believe you. Why?"

James approaches the judge, whispering something that you can't grasp, then he hands a small object to one of the assistants. The latter takes seat at the desk and plugs a flash drive into a laptop.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Court, Mrs. Tenbury-Newent will answer for her actions in the right place at the right time. But now, I'm going to show that my client couldn't kill Seamus Brady and you would have understood, at this point, why he has taken on the blame for a crime he hasn't committed. According her own words, Mrs. Tenbury-Newent has been living for years in the illusion towards his father being the perfect man, till she accidentally found out that her 'hero' was nothing more than a pervert, a man who had abused vulnerable children. Actually, we have no evidence that Seamus Brady was guilty of other crimes like that – to be frank just the thought makes my blood ran cold - but we have evidence that he has been abusing his own child for years, and he never stopped acting cruelly,psychologically and physically, against him.

Because of his distorted mind, Seamus Brady kept on abusing his own son, over and over, with hatred and revulsion against his sexual orientation and, at the same time, nourishing his son's heart with feelings of self-destruction and unjustified guilt... which Brendan Brady has been forced to live with for years."

James nods towards the assistant.

Suddenly, a screen on your right, which you haven't noticed till this moment, lights up, and the first thing you recognize is the flat you shared with Cheryl and later you left for living the rest of your life with no more regrets. With Steven. The flat where Walker held both you and your father hostage in a perverse game of tug war between truth and lie, pain and resistance, anger and forgiveness.

Your father's apologies had healed your more superficial wounds; his falsity re-opened the deeper ones. Brendan Brady stopped existing at that moment.

Only Walker was capable to plot such a diabolical plan and, after two years, you realize, he has got what he wanted, even after his death: destroying you and everyone you love. No one excluded.

The show goes on, and you know you need to go to any length to stop this madness.

You start screaming as you've never done before in your life.

.

.

.

You're in the cell in the basement under the courtroom, now. You did not get what you wanted but to end up locked and chained up like a rabid dog. Without hope.

Minutes fly silent, then a guard announces a visit. You hear sound of steps getting closer. After you have been rubbing your face, buried in your hands, for ages, you look up. It's Nathan.

You relax your back against the wall behind you and sigh heavily.

"What are you doing here?" you ask as if you had seen him just a day ago, or the past week at most, and had other plans on your tight schedule.

Nathan stays silent for a few seconds, then sits beside you on the bench.

You both remain this way, quietly, for a while. After all, there wouldn't be that much to talk about. Just two years and a baby on the way.

"We tried so hard, Brendan. But the harder we were trying to move on, the more difficult it was getting."

Your upper lip begins to tremble. "You should have insisted... much more than she has. "

He shakes his head. "Do you really think it was that easy? To pretend that nothing was happened... I mean. And since she's got pregnant, Cheryl couldn't think of anything else but this. "

Your lips curl in a mocking grin. "It's because of her hormones."

"Probably."

"It's not fair!"

Your voice sounds like a moan. If someone could see inside of you right now, they would see you're bleeding. "You should deter her, stop her somehow."

"It's too late, Brendan".

You detach your eyes from your knees and look at him straight in the eye, a grimace of pain on your face.

"You don't know your sister at all, Brendan." He adds in a sigh.

Good point.

In a completely different situation, there would be a smile on your face, but not now.

"She'll be arrested". It is not a question.

Nathan shakes his head. "She won't. McGinn assured us that everything would turn out alright and she won't have to spend one single day in prison."

Good guy. Such a traitor.

"Your son..."

"It's a baby girl," he tells you and you can't help yourself to raising a smile this time. And you think about Leah and Niamh's blessed soul, and the fact that if things had gone differently you would have got two daughters now, but this means you would be pleased with yourself and your life. Then you remember what you were going to say.

"Your baby girl will grow up and one day someone will tell her that her mother and uncle are a couple of killers."

Nathan looks at you. He has tears in his eyes.

"You thought about that, didn't you?" you add.

"Her mother is not a murderer ... and neither are you. You two are more like heroes. "

You would laugh in his face if you could remember how to do. Life doesn't go this way. There is no room for heroes like you in this fucking wide world.

Suddenly the guard opens the cell's door, James is behind him. The Court are going to announce the verdict.

James stares at you worriedly as if you were about to loop your hands around his neck. And he's right. You jump from the bench about to throw yourself against him, heedless of the fact that you could go back soon in jail. Nathan stops you before the guard can notice it, holding strongly your arms. You had no idea of his strength till this moment.

James looks hesitant, then as if you would consider other options, calls the guard and tells him to remove your handcuffs.

"Judas" you hiss in his ear, while you rub your wrists. "You're my lawyer. I'm paying you. "

James coughs, clumsy. "Come on," he says simply.

And finally, he walks in front of you, putting a considerable distance between his face and your fists.

.

.

.

As soon as you enter the courtroom you notice something weird. There is confusion, excessive noise and everything you would not expect in a courtroom. And Cheryl is not anywhere.

"Mr. Tenbury-Newent?"

An officer approaches to Nathan. "Your wife is going to the hospital."

He wide opens his eyes, terrified. You, too.

"Don't worry. Her labor pains has begun as soon as she finished to depose. She said to tell you to join her. Maybe you can still find out of the court. An ambulance arrived to pick her up few seconds ago. "

You see Nathan waving his arms like a chick that has lost all sense of direction. The officer shows him the exit. Your instinct leads you to follow him. James stops you.

"Are you insane?"

"But... Cheryl... " you cry.

"It won't be long. If everything goes as planned, you'll get out of here in less than half an hour. "

"What?"

You think James must have bumped his head... . Is there any remote possibility that you will be a free man? Seriously? Has the world really started spinning backwards?

Your heart seems to fly out of your chest while you keep telling yourself that everything will be okay. Cheryl will be okay. That the baby will be okay.

_Steven ..._

"Order in the court, all rise!"

As James straightens his wig, you take place beside him and in front of the judges. You still hear some hubbub from the audience and, in your head, the buzz of your heart that is trying to reach supersonic speeds.

It's getting extremely hard to make out what they are saying. Everything is going so fast, and your mom used to say that haste and a good job never go hand in hand.

For this reason, pleasant and unpleasant thoughts starts fighting inside of you like boxers in the ring, and you don't know which of them is going to knock out the other.

Loser or winner.

In or out.

Dead or alive.

"The Court of Appeal of England and Wales has convened on today's date to decide about the instance presented by James Arthur McGinn in the role of defence attorney of the convict in first instance, Brendan Seamus Brady. After careful consideration of the new evidence, emerged in this courtroom, the Court invalidates the conviction for Seamus Brady's murder and absolves the appellant, Brendan Seamus Brady, for not having committed the crime. The Court orders his immediate release. "

You feel a strong pat on your shoulder. You stare at James, incredulously, and he smiles to you. You are not dreaming. It's all true.

"About the request, by the prosecution, to charge Mr. Brady with perjury and contempt of Court, we consider inappropriate to proceed."

As the gavel hit the wood, you startle and completely wake up from torpidity. Later, while you're walking through the corridors along with James, you are assailed by fear that there was a mistake and that someone sooner or later will pop from behind a door and shout to you to go back. So you hold your breath until you find yourself walking down the street. Thank God. Out.

You take in greedy breaths, and as the cold air compresses your lungs, you feel a sweet and sharp pain at the same time, while tears fall out of your eyes without that you realize it.

James guides you to his car, slowly, cautiously, as if you were a child again. And that's how you're feeling. Neither more nor less than the creature nestled in Cheryl's uterus.

Finally, he drives you straight to the hospital.

.

.

.

"What name will you give her?"

"Lynsey Stephanie."

You smile. The first real smile after two years.

Although Nathan's face is pale and drawn, as if he was the one who physically gave birth to her daughter less than ten minutes ago, he smiles back to you.

With your forehead leaning against the glass of the nursery, you start admiring again that little masterpiece of nature. Your heart is brimming with pride and hopes that, some day, she will become proud of her psychopath uncle in the same way, maybe even before you will become proud of yourself.

A little while later, a nurse says that Cheryl is finally in her room.

"No more than 10 minutes" she adds. "Mom needs to rest".

Both Nathan and you give a brief nod, in sync, then quietly get in.

Cheryl welcomes you with open arms and a beaming smile, letting you sit beside her.

Nathan gives her a kiss on the forehead. You hold her hand.

It's like had passed a little more than a day since last time that you saw each other, like you had simply left the village just because of your business or for visiting your kids.

"How are you?" she asks you in a faint voice.

"Me? Rather should I ask how you are."

"Just a little tired, that's all" she says. "But I'd jump up for joy. Today... I got the most beautiful gifts that I could want: my beautiful princess and my amazing big brother".

Cheryl starts weeping. "Sorry... it's just my hormones".

You sniff. It will be your hormones, too, you think.

Then you hug her cautiously.

"You're nut, woman, you know?" you whisper in her ear.

"I'm still your sister," she replies, after a deep sigh.

You two have little time to talk, but you try to make it enough, raising any issues, even the most thorny, except one.

As soon as the nurse tells you that time is up, your grim feelings go back all at once. You wouldn't like to go away from her so soon. Because you two are supposed to make up for lost time.

"Where're you going?" she asks with a bit of anxiety in her wet eyes.

You shrug.

"I'm gonna look for a hotel in the area. James gave me the money. "

You put your jacket on.

"And Ste?"

Your heart bounces on your diaphragm.

"I want you to know it, Brendan ... This morning... I tried to get in touch with him. I left a voice mail message, though. "

She smiles. She thinks she made you happy.

Your heart goes up straight to your throat instead.

"So... he knows, does he?"

Her smile quickly drops out her face . Perhaps she didn't expect to hear your voice waver. Perhaps she hoped that, once you had got out of here, you would have rushed looking for him, finding him and holding him tight in your arms as if nothing had happened, and eventually running with him, hand in hand, in the sunset of that long and exhausting day.

"I dunno, Cheryl. I don't really know how to handle all this. "

"I'm sure Ste has never stopped of loving you."

"You don't know it for sure" you replay, shaking your head slightly. "He won't be happy to see me after what I did."

"You never know it till you try. You wanna be happy, do you?"

"It would be a dream, Chez ... but ... the truth is... I'm so fucking scared. "

Your sister cracks a smile, as she squeezes your hand.

"I feel with you. I reckon... few things in this world are scarier than a dream coming true. Go to him, Bren. He deserves it. And so do you. "

On your way out of the hospital, Nathan invites you to his mother's house, but you decline the invitation.

The both of you are waiting for cabs. Nathan's one arrives first. While he is shaking your hand, his eyes suddenly widen in amazement, staring at a point behind you. Instinctively, you turn quick and the world seems to turn around you like a crazy carousel.

Steven is a few feet away, standing under the drizzle that started falling from the sky. A thousand emotions are bottled inside of you right now, insomuch that you could implode at any moment.

You close your eyes and breathe deeply, while your tears mix with the rain. Then open your eyes and smile, step forward, then another one in his direction. Suddenly, you stop. You know the way he's staring at you, and does not mean anything good. As you expected, Steven jumps on you and his punch hits the target at full. You.

"Nathan rushes to help you up, but you tell him you are fine and he has to take the cab. After you have been showing your life and your feelings in front of dozens of strangers, now you just wish this magic moment didn't belonged to anyone else but the two of you.

Steven stares into your eyes, shaking. You aren't capable to say a word.

Too many thoughts cross your mind right now, even the more frivolous ones. You wonder if he still likes you even without moustache, with a bit less hair and a few more wrinkles.

And suddenly you find yourself wishing for all the things you left, just because you thought it was right that way; all the letters you didn't read, rejected visits, all the dreams you've taken away from him and trodden on.

"YOU! YOU!" he starts shouting, breaking the thread of your thoughts. "YOU... just... selfish cock head! Self-"

Steven stumbles over his words and starts hitting you again.

This time, his punches are weaker and almost you don't feel their knocks against your chest. When you try to wrap your arms around him, he keeps on pawing and screaming nonsense phrases. Then he stops and, as he starts sobbing on your shoulder, you hug him as tightly as possible. It's a bit like dying; yet ,you have never felt so alive. Because you were born today, just as Lynsey, who's placidly sleeping in her cradle at this moment.

As you lick a drop of blood off your lips and hear Steven crying, you realize that getting everything back won't be that easily. There are certain things that are simply hard to win back, like the light of his smile, the sparkles in his eyes, the warmth of his skin that used to smell – you remember – like fresh baked bread and biscuits, sometimes also like you.

Now it smells like whiskey and rain.

"It's okay" you whisper, stroking his hair. A shiver rolls down your spine, praying with all your heart that isn't too late.

"It's okay".


	8. Emergency exit - part 5

**Welcome back to the final chapter of Emergency exit and thanks all of you, readers and reviewers.**

**I've many stories on the stocks, but my insecurities about language block me actually. That's why I care about your opinion very much, I have to know if it's worth to keep on writing. I've on my laptop a story I started writing for Queer as Folk, I called 'Sunshine in the sunset', but I thought to fit it to Hollyoks, because now I'm addicted to this fandom. And many other stories, including another happy ending for our Stendan.**

**Finally I'd like to thank all people who reviewed, giving me the strength and the pleasure to go on.**

**hollie-x, ****runningshoes39, ****PatriciaJessic, ****she-mammoth, ****carolynsil, ****kabr**

**and all the guests who increased visits beyond a thousand. I'd be happy to be able to thank every single one of them.**

**I tried to correct the chapter at my best. Sorry for my grammatical horrors. **

**About Ste, clearly, he's very different from the one we're gonna see on tv, but I wanted to write something less distressing.**

**Reviews and constructive criticisms are always welcome and appreciated.**

**Rating M for this chap, nothing exaggerated, but I needed to warn you.**

* * *

**Part 5**

**.**

**.**

**.**

_Right from the start_

_You were a thief_

_You stole my heart_

_And I your willing victim_

_I let you see the parts of me_

_That weren't all that pretty_

_And with every touch you fixed them_

_It's in the stars_

_It's been written in the scars on our hearts_

_That we're not broken just bent_

_And we can learn to love again_

_[Pink –__Just Give Me A Reason__]_

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Are you hungry?"

"Not really. Do you have nothing else to ask? Steven?"

Steven shrugs and closes the front door of the flat he's sharing with Douglas.

"It's dinner time, so I thought you might be starved. That's all. Once you were all the time, right? I wonder what the hell you used to eat in... there."

He seems to struggle with that word and heads straight to the fridge, where he starts contemplating its content, or the lack of it, for arranging a meal at his best.

You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh in frustration at the view of his underlip slipping between his teeth, despite the memory of what happened an hour ago still makes you shiver. His anger. His tears. It's all gone.

Have you really thought that Steven would have taken control of his life back within a week at the most, after you left him?

Was your confidence so low in his power of loving you as much as you loved him, and still unconditionally you love him?

You've never been so scared to have been wrong. Hope is killing you.

"Oookay" he chirps, taking some eggs and bacon from the fridge and putting them on the kitchen counter, then turns towards you. "Carbonara?"

"Good!" you answer with half a smile, even if, at this moment, you would like to eat something else not involving the use of a fork and spoon.

After the clash at the hospital, he asked you to go with him and you did. You two had traveled by taxi, in silence, in direction of the village. And, now, you find yourself in a familiar frame that would have been, a few hours ago, farfetched even into your wildest dreams.

You are standing behind him, a beer in your hands - the first drink after almost two years - while the delicious smell of sizzling smoked bacon invades the kitchen, dragging you in another place, in another time. This scent also tickles your taste buds, insomuch that everything starts spinning into your head. You put the beer on the kitchen counter, thinking you've fallen out of the habit to hold even light beverages.

A few inches separate you from him, and only one step would be enough to wrap your arms around his chest, with the need to hold him as tight as you did before, but less desperately.

You don't, though, and keep on watching Steven, cooking and blithering, moving so sudden and fast that looks like a spinning top. This is the way he reacts to uncomfortable situations, and you say to yourself it's fine, because you missed hearing his voice as hell, and every time he turns back and looks at you for a while, raising a smile, a sudden feeling burns inside of you in the thought that you would have been missing all of him for the rest of your life.

"You know? You look fine without the mustache... much younger, "he says suddenly.

You instinctively scratch your chin. You had a beard so long that you can still feel the itch. "A James' idea, my lawyer," you tell him. "It was supposed to impress the court, you know, looking like a good guy."

You sneered. Steven gazes at you seriously.

"You are a good guy!" he says heartfelt.

"There's a long list of people, injured or killed by yours truly, who wouldn't agree" you reply wryly.

Steven shrugs and looks away, then drops a generous amount of fusilli in the boiling water.

In a few minutes, you understood three basic things: First off, Steven denies you've just got out of prison; second, that you are a multiple murderer and, finally, that his life was a mess, until a few weeks ago at least.

You have to work on it. After fulfilling your belly, maybe.

"You've always had a magic touch, Steven." You undo the top button of your trousers as you let out a satisfied sigh. "I haven't eaten so well since I've been arrested."

The glass of wine falls from Steven's hands straight onto the tablecloth.

He tries to remove as much of the red wine stain that he can with paper towels. You try to help him, but he doesn't allow you to, or rather his agitation doesn't, plus the fact that he's looking at anywhere but in your direction. You belatedly realize his hands that are trembling.

You've never seen them tremble this way. Actually, you don't remember they have ever trembled in the past.

Steven pours some of the wine left and drinks it in a gulp. Then he takes in a deep breath.

"Since when do you drink so much?" You ask, pulling the bottle away when he tries to grap it again, determined to finish it off.

"It's just a glass of wine," he replies with defensiveness .

"It's the fifth" you say firmly.

You have kept the count.

"That's a bit rich, coming from you, Mr. 'good stuff from Ireland'."

You completely ignore his sarcastic comment. You need to know if all that Douglas told you corresponds to reality.

You grab his hands, holding so tightly to prevent him from reaching the bottle.

"How much do you drink, then?"

"Not enough".

Steven seems to give up on his intent, but his gaze in yours seems the same as when he punched you, calling you cockhead, out of the hospital.

"Do you use... other stuff? "

"Sometimes I get a beer" he mocks.

"I didn't mean that"

"What, then?"

"You know very well what, Steven."

You look at him intently. He looks at you back brazenly. It's like a duel.

"Doug told you everything, didn't he?" he asks with a sneer.

"Are you surprised?"

He look down. "Can you ... please?"

He points out your hands, now livid. You release his instantly. You didn't noticed to have them held so tight.

"Sorry."

"It's okay" he says, without taking his hands away from yours. "Anyway, it happened a couple of times, maybe three. I'm not addicted to drugs. "

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head down slightly for not breaking eye contact. One of the worst feeling in the world is knowing he would lie to you and you could never find out.

"Steven" you begin, you're terrified to ask him, "you... you were about to die, weren't you? What can you say about that?"

"It was an accident ... never mixing drugs and booze together," he lets out a nervous laugh, as the mere thought of losing him tears you up inside. "I've never been a big drinker, me ... you know that."

"Steven" you say impatiently.

"I don't drink whiskey since then and no drugs as well. I swear," he says fervently. "Trust me."

You decide to trust him, but this doesn't make you sure about his mental and physical condition. You've also noticed he lost weight, but you set aside this problem to not sound as apprehensive as a parent, instead as the man who would rather rip his clothes off and poke him on the couch. It hurts you to admit it, but most likely this will remain only a fancy. You aren't even really sure if he's still interested in you or he's just attacked to the memory about the man you were or what was between you two.

"About Douglas ... he and you... are... "

Steven shakes his head vehemently. "NO!" he squeaks in horror, almost as if you had asked if he used to eat poop as a snack. "He's like a brother to me. Plus ... he's got a boyfriend anyway. "

You snort. "Douglas? A boyfriend? "

"Yeah ... why are you so surprised? " he asks in suspicious tone.

"I know him?"

"I'd say you do, and much more than I like to admit it. He's John Paul" he concludes, lifting his chin and wrinkling his celestial nose. "Professor McQueen-I-eat-biological-food-and-crap out-flowers. Yuk! "

"Are you jealous of him or Douglas?" you ask, narrowing your eyes.

"Neither. John Paul... lives here with us, " he replies glumly.

"Wow! A gay flat. Crazy nights?" you snigger, but a very small pang in the middle of your chest warns you about your discomfort. Yet there's nothing wrong, after all, right?

"If for crazy nights you meant they making out on the couch as I'm trying to watch a movie, you're goddamn right."

Steven started stroking your fingers at least five minutes ago, and this makes you smile because he seems so spontaneous and chaste, even sweet, you'd dare to say. But you don't feel that way, and the more his fingers play with yours, the more you feel the desire to bring them closer to your lips, kiss every single fingertip of them, and then switch to every inch of his skin, crashing on his sassy mouth, even only for a minute.

"He... I mean John Paul and I... barely tolerate each other. We decided to get a grip just for Doug's sake, but he's right to be angry with me actually. I've really been a pain in the arse in the latest time."

You find yourself to caress his hands more energetically. This is the only contact that you allow to yourself, but your heart is beating fast as if you were in a kind of foreplay.

You need him to kiss so badly.

All of a sudden you feel your throat dry. You're about to grab the bottle of wine, but then opt for the more healthy dear old water.

You drink greedily, then put your hands again on Steven's ones. "Tell me," you exhort him.

"About what?"

"About what happened."

Steven shakes his head, then sadly looks down as if he was absorbed in the crumbs on the tablecloth.

You lift his chin with your index finger, forcing him to look at you.

Hey," you say softly, "whatever you did will never be worse than what I did."

He frowns. "Like what?"

You puff a little laugh. You don't understand if Steven is taking the piss out of you, or not.

"You know what I mean... Danny Huston... "

"He'd have killed me"

"Walker ..."

"Totally insane"

"My nan... the only time I hurt a woman."

Memories still torments you.

"She knew... you know... and did nothing, right? "

You nod, but his understanding doesn't help you .

"Michael Cornish ..."

"Who the fuck was Michael Cornish?"

"Joel's step dad" you answer, "It was an accident, actually, but it was my fault. And do you know what I did to prevent the police found it out? I chop up his corpse. Piece after piece, hand after hand, foot after foot, I- "

Now it's you to look down. You rub your forehead, still with the limpid image of blood and flesh burning in the fire. There will be no deep enough place in your head where you can try to hide those memories, and your remorse. The all of them deserve to die, but you weren't the one who had to decide. You're not God.

When you look up at Steven again, he doesn't show the slightest perturbation.

"Did you understand what I've just told you, Steven?"

"Yeah," he nods, looking back at you impassively. "I did. You've always made the weirdest things when you were under pressure... as... "

You shake your head in disbelief.

"When you fessed up to the police, you were nearly killed or locked up for life, " he adds resentfully.

That seems to disturb him more than anything else.

"But now you're here... you know... nothing has changed. "

"Really, Steven?"

He nods and tightens more strongly your hands. "I never stopped loving you."

Those words give you goosebumps all over your body. You don't dare to believe it.

"Nothing has changed to me, too" you say firmly.

"Why haven't you kissed me yet, then?"

These words are enough to make your face on fire.

"You think I don't want that, Steven?"

"What's stopping you now?

You both find yourselves standing in a twinkling, staring into each other's eyes.

Steven is the first to move, but as soon as he touches your lips, everything starts spinning in your head again. The touch of his tongue with yours is enough to hammer your heart against your ribs ten times stronger than how you remember, and you're afraid to be on the edge of a infarction.

He notices it and looks at you worriedly. "You're okay?"

You swallow and take in some deep breaths to calm down, but it doesn't work properly.

"It's just..."

"It's the same for me ..." he continues, leaning his forehead to yours and stroking your neck. "I'm afraid I might pass out before we-"

It's amazing the way you two manage to be in tune without saying practically anything.

"You've nothing, have you? I mean... no disease-"

Immediately you shake your head to reassure him. "Fit as a fiddle."

"Thank God" he sighs.

Breathing gets harder and harder.

Now he kisses you less gently, and your tongues crash together, impatient, for some eternal instant.

"Fuck me, then!" he cries in you ear, "I want you, Brendan! I want you inside of me! "

Three. Five. Seven seconds. Eight to take your clothes off each other . Ten, and you're lying on top of him on the couch, your erections and your mouths in a fair fight.

You barely hear a sound and think correctly because of the tum tum in your ears.

"There should be a condom somewhere" says Steven in the midst of such a chaotic vortex of mouths and groans.

"Fuck the condom!" he exclaims and wraps your lips.

_Fuck the condom_, you repeat in your head.

You grab Steven's ankles and put his soles against your chest, his agility helps out and turn on your senses even more. You have to do nothing but keeping his buttocks open, and you are so wet that you will slip inside him without problems.

"Are you ready?"

Steven nods frantically. Urgency written with red ink on his cheeks.

You can't correctly breathe in that view and you wonder if you will be able to survive the storm of feelings unleashing inside your body.

"I love ye" you say, while you crouch slightly and slip inside him in one fluid motion.

_My God!_

But there is no god.

Although you are in heaven, all that you see is Steven's sweaty forehead, his glowing eyes, his effort to get you deeper. Harder. More.

And you want it all of him.

And reading into each other's eyes is enough. Steven spreads his legs and tangles his ankles behind your back, giving you the possibility to lie down on top of him and take his lips back for not leaving them anymore. Steven gasps your name in your mouth; you do the same with his name, so many times that you would loose the count, like when you used to whisper it in the silence of your cell.

You are on the edge, Steven too. You can see it from the way he presses his heels against your arse, for pushing you into coming with him, because he's one step away... only one step away from your personal wonderful heaven.

.

.

.

You're exhausted. Having sex all night long was no longer in your daily practice, but it was worth, even if you managed to sleep just one hour. Eventually Steven fell asleep with his back against your chest, and your cock still buried inside of him. One of the best feeling you remember so far.

You got up early, without waking him. You took his keys and went straight James' home to pick up your stuff he had taken away from the prison. He also gave you a credit card, _motherfucker_. He was sure, from the start, you would have been released, confiding in his ability to enchant people. He could give you some lessons.

Now you're sitting on the couch, where you can still feel the wild smell of last night.

You're wearing the suit you wore during the trial, a travel bag is close to your feet. You're waiting for Steven awakes, for talking to him, telling him that even if you want to be with him, you can't stand the thought of moving back in Hollyoaks, not when the worst memories have now surpassed the happiest ones.

You turn around suddenly in the sound of steps down the stairs. But it's only Douglas and his boyfriend. You draw in a long breath and let it out in a grunt. Seeing half naked Douglas while John Paul is touching his arse is not exactly the romance that you would expect at that moment of the morning.

Douglas notices at you and seems annoyed.

"Hey, mate. Has Ste kicked you from his bed yet?"

You have the sneaking suspicion that he hasn't recognized. Without facial hair, you look a completely different person.

The fact that Steven hasn't considered his one-offs any differently from what they were gives you a little comfort.

Douglas hands you a cup of coffee and you grins at him, pleased. Then he recognizes you.

"Brendan?"

You hear John Paul mutter a faint "Oh my-"

"What the hell are you doing here?" asks Douglas.

"What do you think?"

Then he looks at you up and down, noticing in the end your bag on the floor.

"You're leaving?" he asks. Then he looks over your head. "Ohi, Ste!"

You turn around and see a half asleep Steven coming down the stairs, his huge yawn before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bury his face in the crook of your neck.

"Er... we... then-" John Paul begins, giving a nudge in Douglas' hip and then motioning to follow him upstairs.

Steven grabs your cup and takes a sip of coffee, then plops down on the couch at your side and stretches out his legs on yours, closing his eyes, happy and laid back .

This makes what you have to say much harder.

You're waiting for Douglas and John Paul to be ready to exit. When you see the door closing behind them, you brush Steven's cheek, lightly asleep. His satisfied smile squeezes your heart; blinking of his eyes, in the effort to keep them open, makes it all worse.

"Morning" he finally croaks, his voice still slurred with sleep, too much wine and a plenty of sex.

This new languid version of Steven turns on your senses again, but in a totally different way. You feel so fucking lost now.

You look away and stare at the bag at your feet. Steven taps your arm with the tip of his foot.

"Hey! What are we doing today? "he asks, smiling and flicking his eyebrows mischievously in an explicit invitation to locking you two in the bedroom till the end of the day.

"Steven" you begin.

He rotates his legs and sits, stretching out his arms above your shoulders, nuzzling the stubble growing under your chin.

Steven purring is the last thing you need.

"I'm happy," he whispers before bite a bit of your skin.

"Happy" he repeats.

You let out a groan, then push him away gently.

"Steven, listen to me, please."

"Mmm"

"I can't stay here. "

His face shifts from dreaming-alarming- and, finally, 'narrow escape' mood in a split second.

"Okay," he says. "I don't want to stay with Doug and ... John Paul, too. I'd say that would be beyond awkwardness, right? I mean ... three gays in a flat are too many, four is a crowd. And if you consider that at least each one of us slept with the other... "

He lets out a laugh of his, capable of killing brain cells of anyone, if it weren't the fact that you love it.

He loops around your neck with his hands and plants a tender kiss on your lips, then looks at you with a bright smile. "We could ask for our old flat back, if it's still empty. What do you think? Or we can looking for one to your taste... you know... without mold on the walls. "

You have never told him, but you loved that council apartment just because he lived there.

You grab his wrists gently, pushing his hands away from your face and holding onto your knees.

"It's not about the flat, Steven. I can't live... in the village".

"But-

"Wait, Steven" you stop him, before losing the courage to go on. "I'm not back for staying here, too many bad memories and too many people who know. I'd feel as a guinea pig. You... you're made for this place, you've got your friends, your business. I've nothing that ties me to these places, instead. "

You stop as soon as notice the painful gleam in Steven's eyes. Every time you promise not to hurt him anymore, you break instead every your promise.

"And I? I belong to that nothing, don't I? "

"No. .. don't get me wrong. You're the only reason, but I can't stay, Steven."

"NO!"

Steven jumps up, shoving you against the seatback.

You get up, too. "Steven, please ..." you try.

"NO! Listen to me, now!" He shouts, pointing a threatening finger on your face. "You piece of shit! For fuck's sake... and I thought you had changed. "

"I'm not the man before, indeed. I-"

"NO! You are! " he screams on the top of his lungs." You're still the same manipolative individual who wants to control over everything and everyone! YOU decided to get out of prison since YOU knew how miserable my life was because of you. YOU planned to get killed, not caring about me and what I felt for you. YOU chose to be locked up and cut me out of your life and I'll never forgive you for that. And now YOU are leaving again because YOU don't have enough balls to make a fresh start with me. You're a... a selfish bastard... just a-"

Steven breaks down in tears.

You try to touch him, but he shoves you again.

"You know that's not true. You know how much I love you. I'd do anything for you, Steven, but-"

"But you can't stay with me."

"I want to stay with you."

"Say it, then!"

" Sorry, Steven. I can't. I-"

"Ask me to leave with you. Ask me that! "

"What? You don't know-"

"I know very well what I want, Brendan. Trust me... it's not spending the rest of my life without you."

"But you've got your life, your whole world is here. I can't ask to you such a sacrifice. "

"I HAVE NOTHING HERE, BRENDAN! Do I need to drum it into your head? YOU are my world, my life. Everything! " he sobs, before turning away and putting his palms on the counter.

"Your kids, Steven. You've got your kids. "

"I didn't see them for months. And if Amy will change her mind... one day... as good a place as any for her. Unless you don't want to leave for the moon. See? You're the only thing I've got left. And I want you back!"

"Are you sure?"

"Never sure about something so much in my life" he replies without looking back . "So, Brendan... all you have to do is ask... otherwise... you know where the door is... and don't come back! "

Silence is so dense that you can cut it into thick slices.

You're such a selfish. Whatever your decision.

You walk up to him slowly, and gently lay your hands on his shoulders, your forehead against the back of his head.

"Steven Hay" you begin, "Would you like to come with me... to Dublin or anywhere, leaving everything and everyone behind; fall asleep with me every night, wake up with me every morning, see nothing else but my amazing face every second, minute, hour or day for the rest of your life? "

The silence fell again. Two, four, ten seconds of absolute panic.

Finally, Steven turns around in your arms; his eyes are red-rimmed for tears, and the big smile he 's wearing on his face is bright enough to make the sun pale.

He cups your face in his hands and plants a kiss on your lips. "Yeah," he replies finally, his voice still broken with tears. "I do" he repeats .

"I didn't ask to marry me, Steven," you say, diluting such a mushy atmosphere, but you couldn't care less, actually.

"YESSSS!" he screams loudly on your face. "YESSS!"

Kisses everywhere. Your mouths crashing together.

It's like a storm of laughter and tears. Never so happy and crazy since you met him for the first time.

And you couldn't be happier. You would like to shout out and cry because the greatest ambition of your life is being realised right before your eyes. It was enough to believe it.

"Would you like to celebrate?" You ask, pointing at the stairs with a motion of your head.

Steven nods enthusiastically, his smile like permanently etched on his lips.

Necessary stage: bedroom.

Then Cheryl and, finally, Dublin.

.

.

Your clothes are a heap on the floor, again, and your mouths enclose each other's cocks.

Neither of the two would like to come away from this dream that you want to savor for as long as possible.

You budge and lick his hole, hot, sticky, reddened because of the passion of latest hours. You are like a cat that wants to bring ease to a wound. Steven groans around your hard-on, taking and pumping it deeper into his throat, increasing the rhythm while you are trying to move your tongue in sync with the deep throbs of your cock hitting against Steven's palate.

You gasp.

Steven's rhythm further speeds up and you stop caring about your mouth job. It's too hard trying to concentrate as Steven is trying to rip the soul out of your body. His butt cheeks, swaying white and indecent before your eyes, as a call to come inside him again, but you aren't sure if he could hold the pain. You give it a try, slipping your thumb through his ring. This inflames his ardour the more and Steven starts to fuck your finger the way you're fucking his mouth. That means only one thing: he wants you exactly as you want him.

He lets go your cock out of his mouth and turns his head back to you, a quick look of understanding and he already moves forward on your legs, without breaking contact with your eyes. So you can see his mouth open wide, his tongue twisting between his theet as he slowly descends on your cock, taking it so deep that you wonder how he can not splitting off.

Rhythm is fierce, interspersed with gasping cries. Steven tosses back his head, lying on your chest and you bit wildly his shoulder, gripping his hip with the right hand and his cock with the left one. And finally everything turns white for a moment and then explodes in a million little golden particles.

"You all right?" you pant, gentle fingers along his spine.

"Yeah" he answers lazily. "Never better".

Silence.

"Brendan?"

You replay with a deep grunt.

"Whatever I did or said before... I didn't mean it".

"What?"

"I wasn't thinking what I said about you, me. I was upset".

"I know".

"Sorry"

"You don't have to excuse you for anything. You're right."

You lie your cheek on his back , a soft kiss between his shoulder blades.

"Steven?"

"Mmm"

"I'll make your life better than you can imagine. I promise".

He rolls over to face you and start stroking your lips. "You don't have to promise me anything. You've never been perfect, and neither have I, but I want you exactly the way you are. Just..."

"Just... what?"

"Don't dare to leave me again. Whatever happens... if you still care about me... don't leave me out of your life. I've no intention to waste another moment of mine without you in it. This is our second chance... well... one of many... and I'm damned if I'm gonna let you go away again without fighting."

You nod, kissing softly his fingers, then claim his lips, red and swollen from the latest kisses and bites.

"I promise" you whisper, breathing into his hair, "I promise you if you promise me that you stop taking shit that pulps your brain, that- "

"I promise" he rushes to answer.

You pull away from him a bit and tap lightly his chest with your fingers, marking time with your words. "And you need to learn loving yourself the same way I love ye, and-"

A sudden lump in your throat steals your breath as your fingers still tap Steven's chest.

Never mind, an embrace means much more than all that you bottle in the depths of your heart.

.

.

.

You're wearing different clothes from the ones you wore in the early morning. Steven gave you blue jeans and a grey shirt.

After your arrest, you had sent James to take all your clothes away from home and give them away for charity. Clearly, Steven had held something.

You also put on a black cap and a Steven's old jacket. you look in the mirror and, then, turn back to face him, standing in silence next to you.

"Well?" you ask when he continues to say nothing.

"You're the sexiest man in the world" he answers finally.

"Shut up!" you growl as it's getting too warm around your neck.

"Don't worry," he adds, with a smile that makes his eyes more blue and bright. "They'll notice just your hotness".

"Cut it out!" you grunt, slapping his bum.

"Okay" you say under your breath to your reflex in the mirror. "Let's go!"

After a few seconds you both are outside. You don't even cast a glance at the door of your old apartment, the same you do with the club, because that matters for you is by your side. Later, you stop just outside the deli and Steven asks you with a glance if you want to enter with him, so you follow him.

The only one customer is leaving and, Douglas welcomes you with a weird smile on his face, he seems to have swallowed a mix between a bitter lemon and sour milk.

Steven's smile, instead... Your boy looks like if he had just swallowed sun, moon and every fucking star of the fucking universe.

You stay aside as Steven moves closer to Douglas and tells him about everything he's going to do. Douglas doesn't seem so happy. It's no wonder when you are in Steven's plans, too.

"Are you sure?" he asks him.

Steven's happiness, as he nods, hits you as a shock wave. You wonder if your face is as bright as his own, because you feel incandescent inside, in view of the new life that awaits you. And since this is very likely your last chance (one of many), you don't want to fuck it all up again. Whatever it takes. Vows, blood sacrifices, even counseling again. You have a lifetime to catch up.

And you didn't ever forget your boys and a little girl you want to make proud of you. There will be a lot of work to do, but Steven will stay with you. This is your new greatest power.

At a certain point, Steven and Douglas hug each other and, at the same moment, you realize you've been grinding the bottom of the pockets with your fists all the time. You should face reality. You would lock Steven in a trunk for avoiding that someone else could take him away from you. You have to work on this problem as well.

"Bye-bye Douggie boy!" you say on the doorway. "And thank ye for everything" you conclude heartfelt as Douglas stares at you, gaping. You're more than sure that, in half an hour, John Paul will find him who is wiping his own pee from the floor.

You put your arm on Steven's shoulders, sneering in that thought, and walk out along with him.

The sun shines bright and heats your face and even all your thoughts. Your steps take you more and more distant.

"Brendan!"

Both flinch as one man. "Nobody should recognize me, right Steven?"

As you turn back, Nancy is in front of you.

"I'd like to talk to you".

You scowl. "About what?"

"About the trial" she answers and, at the same moment, your lips raise in an annoyed grimace.

"I'm sorry, Nancy. I've got a plane taking off. I can't issue any interviews."

"I didn't mean that. You know... I wrote the piece, last night, but I haven't yet sent to press. I'd want ask you if that was all the truth, Brendan."

You look at Steven and his face is all 'You don't need to do anything you don't want"

You turn at her again. "I spared the worst for not shocking the court, Nancy"-

"Oh my-" she covers her mouth with her hand. "Listen, Brendan. If you like I don't do it"

"Get the point, Nancy" you say impatiently. "Please" you add at the end less roughly.

"Well... I won't send the article to press".

You sneer. "Why not? It's your job. Just a favour. Please, can you use one of my old hairy photos? That's the story of the old Brendan Brady, not mine".

She nods.

"Brendan?" she call you again as you are about to turn away. "About the pub. I need to tell you. Darren found the receipt of Seamus' winning. The dog in the pond belongs to you and Cheryl, actually. I wasn't agreed, trust me".

"You let out a frustrated sigh, in part for memories you haven't ever either asked for or wanted, in part for the time you're wasting in useless chat.

"Very nice of you, Nancy, but I don't care. Like I said, that story doesn't concern me anymore."

You realize right now that Steven has grasped your hand in his own.

You repress a hint of protest from Nancy with a vague gesture.

"Sorry, sweetheart. As you can see ..." and you raise your arm, dragging Steven's hand, tightly tangled with yours. "I'm making an honest person of this man. Enjoy the pub!"

And leaving Nancy gaping, you turn and, finally, walk away along with Steven.

Actually, you care about all that will come pressed on the newspaper, today or tomorrow. Maybe people will forget in a hurry or aren't interested at all, but you think of your family, and can just hope that Nancy has a second thought and replaces her article with another not exactly conforming to the truth. A truth would cast a shadow of misery and shame - the same shame that has plagued you for years - over your family, over Cheryl who, instead, could have continued to live in her daydream forever.

But as you stare Steven, into deep of his beautiful eyes, you think you need to dream, too, from this moment on. Steven can teach you. And Nancy ... Nancy will sit in front of his laptop and start her piece with something like:

_Dear reader, finally, justice is done_!


End file.
